


At the End We Begin Again

by Footloose



Series: Loaded March [16]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ensemble Cast, M/M, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 56,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Footloose/pseuds/Footloose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Absolutely nothing could make the members of Excalibur sign on for more.  The war was over, the aftermath cleaned up as much as it could be, and they were happy to leave the last few loose threads to the army.  </p><p>It was time to come home.</p><p>But the world isn't done with them, and all that Arthur and Merlin want do is to live their lives.  So they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End We Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters to Merlin(TV) and am not profiting from this work.
> 
> This is the Epilogue of the Loaded March series.
> 
> Thanks to Detochkina (AO3) for the thorough beta. Any mistakes that remain are entirely my own. Liberties were taken with history, mythology, and locations; any errors are deliberate to protect the innocent.
> 
>  
> 
> There is nothing that I love more than to write the stories that I want to tell, and there's no story that wanted to be told more than this one. Thank you for sticking it out with me all the way to the end.
> 
> * * *

"Long flight?"

Merlin's yawn snapped his jaw with an audible click. The cab driver offered a sympathetic wince that Merlin accepted with a jerky nod. Merlin scratched the back of his head and was about to reply, but was overwhelmed by another yawn. When he got himself under control, he shook his head and admitted, "I've had longer."

"Looking at you, mate, I'm not sure that's a good or bad thing," the cab driver said. He tilted his head toward the vehicle he was leaning against and asked, "Need a lift?"

"No, thanks. I've got a car --" Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to drag the sleep out of his eyes. Before he dropped his arm, he glanced at his watch and frowned. "Not sure if it's supposed to be here at 0600 or 1800, actually. I was a little fuzzy when I got the arrangements."

They both looked around. The sun was setting on the horizon, glinting off the windshields and shiny rooftops of the cars in the long-term parking lot. Dim streetlights grew dimmer with every passing second until they turned off altogether. In the distance, the low rumble of lorries passed by at high speeds along the highway, and if Merlin squinted, he could see the red rear lights of the last passenger car driving away from the airport, stopping at the roundabout before merging into traffic.

There was no car.

"Could be late," the driver said.

"Could be," Merlin said. He scratched an itch behind an ear, dragged his palm along the scruff of his jaw, and rubbed a finger under his nose. It wasn't like Arthur to be late.

"I could take you into town," the driver offered.

Merlin glanced from the empty road -- vainly hoping to make the car appear -- to the cab that looked as if someone had taken a rubber mallet to the bumps and dents. He turned to the driver, who was dressed neatly, if not smartly, but it was clear that neither the war nor its aftermath had spared him.

His black slacks were patched at the knees and worn at the cuffs. The button-down shirt he wore was so thin that Merlin could see the logo of a chips shop on the undershirt. His khaki jacket with plaid lining was light enough for spring but clearly borrowed from someone else; it didn't fit the man's shoulders.

There was a thin scar along his jaw, a faint tremble in his left hand, and he stood as if he favoured his left leg. Even the way he leaned against the front fender of his car hinted at injuries that continued to plague him.

The cab driver seemed non-threatening, and his offer was tempting. Merlin hesitated, not because the man was potentially a dangerous person, but because he was skittish after the last four kidnapping attempts. The most recent had involved a complicated web of government officials in a foreign country, several layers of bribes, and a cell that someone had managed to make magic-proof.

The cell had not been Merlin-proof, which was the only reason that he'd made it home at all, instead of languishing in a cold, clammy corner, refusing once again the generous offer to pledge loyalty to a country that wasn't his own. Merlin had long decided that waiting for the diplomats to sort it out before Arthur got it in his head to start another war to get Merlin free was just asking for trouble.

"I get it," the driver said, offering a kind, reserved smile, clearly mistaking Merlin's lack of answer as a slight against him. Merlin wanted to say, _Sorry, you really don't_ , when the driver shrugged and added, "I'm not taking offence. We're still sorting ourselves out, aren't we?"

Merlin looked at him again. _Really_ looked, this time. Merlin saw the pockmark scars on the man's cheek, the burn scars on his left hand, the magic under his skin. He was a sorcerer, though not very strong, and definitely not educated in the art. His magic could barely manage simple things like warming up the kettle or turning the lights on when it got dark, but it was enough to put him in a stigmatized group. If the war and its aftermath hadn't been good to him, the people hadn't been any nicer to him, either.

"I really do have someone coming after me," Merlin mumbled awkwardly. 

"It's fine," the driver said, his smile suddenly tight, his body stiff. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets roughly; Merlin thought he heard the fabric tear. "I'm used to it. I could even call it progress, actually. It's not because my skin is a different colour, not like it was for my dad before he came here from the States. Now it's because I can use magic."

"I'm not -- I don't have a problem with --" Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering just how much more he could bungle a simple conversation with a normal bloke. He'd been making a tit out of himself every time he opened his mouth between Australia and England, and clearly, he should find a hole somewhere and catch a solid twelve hours of sleep in order to regain simple motor function. "That's not what I meant."

"Sure," the bloke said. He turned his head away, obviously torn between leaving the place altogether and not wanting to leave, because he might still get a fare and leaving without one would cost him more than he could afford.

"I have magic, too," Merlin said, more out of frustration than anything else. He met the man's startled eyes. "I'm no different than you. I really don't care if you have magic or not. But I have a ridiculously overprotective husband who will get all kinds of stroppy if I don't get in the damn car that he sent."

"Oh," the man said. He relaxed marginally, and, after a moment, a thoughtful expression settled on his features. He shot a few sidelong glances at Merlin and said, "It's not my place, but if your bloke's abusive, you don't have to stay with him. You know that, right? I could take you somewhere else, somewhere safe, if you wanted."

Merlin groaned quietly. He pressed his hand to his face and… laughed. It came out as a slow hiccup, full of exhaustion and uncertainty, wavering between the hilarity of the statement and the frustration that came with absurdity of the situation. 

The man's concerned, "Are you all right?" tipped Merlin over and he laughed out loud, because really, he should have tried to sleep on the plane, even if he hadn't been able to for a good, long time. He fucking hated planes at this point, but he'd been so desperate to get home that he hadn't wanted to be on base for a second longer after his tour of duty ended. Arthur, bless him, had booked a commercial plane when it turned out that the next military flight would take him three days out of the way. All told, though, getting back sooner hadn't been worth the nightmare that had been the trip itself, and Merlin would rather ride a dragon, even if it meant getting chaffed in the crotch area from the scales, than have to do it again.

Merlin pulled himself together, wiping the tear of amusement from his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'm all right. It's just, I've never heard anything funnier my entire life. He's not abusive, and if he were, I wouldn't stay with him, you know. He couldn't make me. He's a big… I don't know. A kitten, I suppose. My safe place? It's him."

So much had happened since university that Merlin no longer remembered the name of the man he'd dated and who put him in the hospital. He was just another faceless facet of every other act of violence that Merlin had been on the wrong side of, just another checkmark in the PTSD box . Merlin was pretty sure that if not for Arthur's well-hidden gentleness, Merlin would probably snap.

"If you say so," the driver said dubiously, but clearly accepting Merlin's word for it.

Merlin studied him. "What's your name?"

"Ollie," the man said. "Oliver Parks."

"Nice to meet you, Ollie," Merlin said, holding out his hand. "I'm Merlin."

Ollie took his hand without thinking, returning the handshake with the casual loose grip of someone who had already decided that they'd never cross paths again. Abruptly, his fingers tightened and something like recognition flashed in his eyes. "Merlin?"

"It's a common name, mate," Merlin said hopefully, even though it really, really wasn't. Not for his age group, anyway. Morgana had emailed Merlin with a link to a recent census of _Popular Names_ , and apparently, there was an upsurge in _Merlin_ and _Arthur_. Given that Arthur had been in the media a lot since taking his new position in the military, Arthur, of course, was in the lead.

The only solace Merlin had was that the other members of Excalibur were also on that list.

"Not that common," Ollie said, breaking the handshake. A suspicious glint remained in his eyes, though.

Hoping to distract from the inevitable avalanche of questions, Merlin asked, "Can I ask a personal question? It's about your magic. I'm just wondering, and you don't have to say, but what are you good at?"

Ollie shrugged his shoulder. It made his clothes rise up, showing just how much he was slumped over to maintain a posture that would keep him presentable. "Not much, mate."

Merlin let the silence stretch before he shrugged out of his coat, folded it, and dropped it on top of his duffel bag. It was warm, humid, and there was promise of rain in the air, but most of all, Merlin felt better without it, finally able to _feel_ the magic of his country tingling against his own. "Seems to work out that everyone's good at a few things, but sometimes they're good at one thing in a way that doesn't seem obvious, but it's really amazing."

"I guess," Ollie said. He ran his hand against the hood of his car. The cab had seen better days, and despite the dents, it looked perfectly serviceable. He tilted his head and a lopsided grin pulled on his mouth. "I'm the only one who can keep her running, you know. All I've got to do is rub the steering wheel and she starts. No one else can get her to go."

Merlin smiled. In all of his travels, he'd encountered every kind of imaginable magic -- even some that he could never have fathomed. More than anything, he'd noticed that most of the younger magic users were particularly adept at connecting in some instinctive way to technology. "We call that technomancy."

"Technomancy?" Ollie asked, scrunching his face up in confusion. "That's… that's what?"

"That's being able to integrate with technology," Merlin said, noticing the headlights of the car coming their way. The car was a black sedan, probably a luxury vehicle liberated from the Pendragon Consulting garage, and most definitely equipped with a comfortable back seat that would let Merlin sleep for the long drive to London.

"Is that useful?" Ollie asked, interest and curious.

"Oh, yeah," Merlin said, looking at the cab again. He hadn't noticed it before -- chalk one score for exhaustion, he supposed -- but now that he was paying attention, he could tell that there were tiny, almost minuscule currents running all over the car's body, and probably under the hood, too. It reminded him of a complicated circuit board, or even the crazy advances in data transfer using biological electrical conduits and photon signals, but far more refined and sleek, and on a grand scale. "You have no idea. I use it, but on a much smaller scale. It's really not that common of a gift."

"There's money in that?" Ollie asked.

Merlin held up a finger and fumbled his mobile out of his pocket. The battery was low, but there was enough charge for him to look through his phone book for Kathy's contact information in London. Somehow, she'd manoeuvred herself into a position where she had become the training coordinator, even going so far as to set up a few informal schools for young children to help control their power. A friend of hers was working on integrating magic with other grade levels, but it was a work in progress. The only arena that had wholeheartedly adopted the use of magic was trade work, because nothing was handier than being able to lift a steel bar into place without awkwardly fighting with the lifting equipment, or not having to shove an arm down a sewer pipe to break up a clog.

There weren't a whole lot of people hiring magic users yet, not for the express purpose of using that magic, but that would change. Pendragon Consulting had put their money where their mouth was and had spearheaded magic-friendly initiatives, and other companies were slowly following suit.

"You have something to write on?" Merlin asked. He jotted down the name and number of Kathy's friend on a crumpled receipt and gave it to Ollie just as the black sedan came to a stop at the curb. "Give Janet a call. Tell her I sent you. She'll ask you so many questions you'll feel you're being interrogated, but she's really a sweetheart. But if it interests you, she'll find a place in these parts where you can use your magic for work. Maybe at a mechanic's shop, get you apprenticed."

A car door opened and closed, but Merlin didn't look to see who had been sent to pick him up. He continued to hold out the scrap of paper and the pen until Ollie took it.

"Okay," Ollie said, dubious. He looked at the number and asked, "Why would you… Why would you want to help me?

"Because he's in the habit of trying to save the world," Arthur said, somehow managing to sound simultaneously smug and fond. "It's a quirk of his. Completely endearing, though."

Merlin turned on his heel. His knees buckled at the sight of Arthur. Arthur was striking in dark trousers and a white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, the collar open at the throat, but it wasn't just that he looked good. It was -- " _Fuck_. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"I could say the same," Arthur said, smiling broadly. He crossed the distance between them in only a few strides, arms spreading wide at the same time that Merlin reached out for him. 

There was nothing better than to be home, wrapped tightly in Arthur's arms. Safe and sound and warm. All the bone-deep exhaustion lifted, replaced by a soothing comfort. Arthur was a solid weight against Merlin, unyielding as always but bending only for Merlin, and despite the weeks apart at a time, they continued to fit each other as if some deity had cast them from the same mould.

Merlin felt a kiss to his cheek. He pulled back and turned his head, catching Arthur's lips. Mindful of their audience, Merlin kept it chaste, sighing into the kiss.

"I thought you were stuck with Mandrake," Merlin said as they broke apart. His eyes felt wet. He rubbed them under the pretence of knuckling the sleep out of them, but there was no hiding the way he wiped his hands on his trousers to dry his tears.

"I told Mandrake if he put me through one more team debrief, I was going to start charging him consultancy fees," Arthur said. Part of Arthur's job had been to run special teams on critical, high-value missions. Not only did he have a knack for talking people through sticky situations, he also had the ability to extract important post-mission information from them despite the fog of adrenaline. But like Merlin, even though Arthur no longer worked for the British Army, it was difficult to extricate himself.

"Did that work?" Merlin asked.

Arthur scoffed. "What do you think?"

"That you had to threaten Mandrake with telling Aithusa that someone was being mean to her daddy," Merlin said with a smirk.

Arthur opened his mouth to protest. He ran a hand behind his neck and shrugged. "Well. I'm not above using underhanded tactics, particularly if they work."

Merlin laughed.

"I see you made a new friend," Arthur said, nodding toward Ollie. 

Merlin turned around to see Ollie staring at them both, the crumpled receipt with Janet's phone number still in his hand, his mouth open with recognition. 

It surprised absolutely no one that Ollie would know who Arthur was on sight. Arthur had been on the telly nearly as often on official military business as he had made occasional appearances on Mickey O'Reilly's newest show. That was not to mention how many times news clips with Arthur had been turned into gifsets and posted all over social media or how many views and downloads there were of video with Arthur and of the team.

Arthur wasn't the only one to be the victim of such popularity, even though he was the one who constantly needed to dodge paparazzi, but he was definitely one of the major targets given that he already had a presence in the media as the heir to the Pendragon Consulting empire. In fact, Merlin's favourite image was a still shot taken from the video on the Tower Bridge -- a heartbreaking photograph of Merlin and Arthur leaning next to each other, smoke rising around them. Their faces were smeared in dirt and grime, bodies slack with exhaustion and vibrating with wartime alertness, a sleeping Aithusa curled up in Merlin's arms.

He had that photo in his mobile.

"He's --" Ollie said, clearly knowing who Arthur was. His wide-eyed gaze turned to Merlin. "You're --"

"Promise me you'll call Janet," Merlin said, wanting to avoid a _situation_. He wasn't above using his fame to do some good, even if he was uncomfortable with being famous in the first place.

"I'll call Janet," Ollie said solemnly.

"Arthur, this is Ollie Parks," Merlin said, introducing the two. "He's a technomancer. I think he's wasted as a driver, and that any mechanic would love to have him in their shop."

Arthur shook hands with Ollie and tilted his head toward Merlin. "With that kind of endorsement, you'll find work anywhere. Janet will find you something quickly."

"Thank you, sir," Ollie said, breathless. He didn't look like he wanted to break contact with Arthur, but he did after a few awkward moments.

"Good luck, Ollie," Merlin said, grabbing his coat and duffel bag. Arthur thumbed the key fob and the trunk of the sedan popped open. Merlin threw everything in the boot and went for the front passenger seat.

"Thanks -- thank you, Mr Emrys," Ollie said sincerely.

Ollie stood there staring at them, a hand held up in awed farewell long after Arthur had pulled away from the curb and guided the car onto the main road.

Merlin turned away from the rearview mirror and studied Arthur's profile. They'd seen each other a few weeks ago in Istanbul and had even been able to sneak away from their official duties to have a few quiet hours together, but it hadn't been enough. Each time they reunited, Merlin thought something else had changed in Arthur -- a new wrinkle, a white hair lost in all the golden blond, losses in muscle mass, gains in muscle mass, a new bruise, a cut across his nose, a sunburn, sunken cheekbones. It was always something different. 

Merlin couldn't say he hadn't changed, either. Without Arthur there to push Merlin into maintaining a regular PT routine or reminding him to eat some of the high protein, high carb bars that always seemed to find their way to Merlin, no matter where he was sent in the world, Merlin had lost a significant amount of weight. There were some times when he felt downright scrawny, but when he stood next to people who had suffered more than he had during the war, he stopped complaining.

Magic, however, demanded its pound of flesh, and Merlin had been using it more and more. It might sap his strength when he was working more with his natural reserves than from the magic around him, but these days, he was the strongest that he'd ever been, even if he was tired more often than not.

"I missed your face," Merlin said. Arthur's mouth curled into a smile. "I also want to shag you into next week."

Arthur grinned. "I'm very on board with that plan. But I've got to ask. Did you get any sleep?"

Merlin grunted and shifted in his seat until he wasn't slumped down anymore, adjusting his seat belt. "What do you think?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Where's Aithusa?" Merlin asked, glancing at the back seat, half-expecting her to be there. 

Outside of phone and video calls, which happened more frequently than he'd liked when none of the others could calm her down, Merlin had seen Aithusa even less than Arthur. They had learned through bitter experience that it was better not to tell her ahead of time when Merlin was returning home, because she would become intractable and insufferable for the duration, refusing naps and sleep until he arrived.

According to Merlin's Mum, Balinor had nearly had an aneurysm out of frustration the day Merlin's leave had been cancelled by the commander of the base where Merlin had been operating from, apparently on the merits of a mission that same commander had deemed urgent. The aftermath hadn't been pretty -- Merlin had been particularly ruthless against the rebels, Arthur had been utterly merciless with the base commander, Balinor had resorted to outright bribery, and Aithusa had been in tears for days.

Surprising the little Queen with Merlin's visits, however brief, had proven to be better, but today, she wasn't in the back seat.

"With Hunith. Same as always," Arthur said, glancing at him with a frown. "Do you really think I'd disappoint her in case the flight didn't make it on time?"   
Merlin smiled faintly, covering up his disappointment.

"You'll see her tomorrow," Arthur said. "They're coming to London."

"Yeah?" Merlin brightened. "How come?"

"Hunith said something about wanting to show off her granddaughter to her friends -- you know the ones she went on those trips with? Apparently she has some explanation to do. They always knew she was skiving off to meet a bloke, but now that they know Balinor is alive…" Arthur shrugged.

"Serves her right," Merlin said grumpily. He might have forgiven his mother for lying to him his entire life, for going so far as to make up elaborate excuses and cover stories for when she enacted her own undercover missions to see Balinor, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt, deep down. It would probably hurt for a long time.

"I feel I should warn you. Aithusa wants to go to the museum," Arthur said, cringing. Aithusa had been very, very upset about the dragon replicas that had been mounted in the entrance to the dinosaur wing. By all accounts, Arthur had narrowly avoided her meltdown.

Aithusa was such a sweet, open child most of the time that both Arthur and Merlin sometimes forgot how terrible the Queen's temper could be. That she was a _dragon_ , that she'd been raised in questionable surroundings -- it made parenthood far more challenging, because neither of them knew what might unsettle her, but they were learning.

"I'll take her," Merlin said, still sour that he hadn't been able to make it home for that trip. "I expect you still have paperwork to deal with, anyway."

"No," Arthur said. "Finished all that bollocks yesterday."

Merlin glanced sideways. "What did you do all day, then?"

"Leon and Perce arrived at 0600, Gwaine at 1000, the rest shortly after lunch. Except for Will and Mordred -- those two missed their flight. Entirely Will's fault, I'm sure, but I found them another flight. They got in about an hour ago," Arthur said.

"You kept tabs on us," Merlin said with a grin. "You big softy."

"I'm not sure why that surprises you," Arthur muttered. His tone took on a warning bent. "But if I find out you've told people --"

"If your macho, take-names, kick-arse cover story gets pulled down as a fraud, it won't be because of me," Merlin said with an amused snort. "You know, I heard a funny story down at the base. Something about being turned into a real, live fairy-tale knight in shining armour."

Arthur groaned. He lowered his head, and would have banged his head on the steering wheel if he hadn't been driving. "Not you, too."

"Yes, me, too," Merlin mimicked. "I don't know what you're on about. The Queen wants to knight you --"

"It's a rumour. A _rumour_ ," Arthur insisted. "Absolutely no substance to it."

"It's the number one trending hashtag on Twitter these days," Merlin mused, fishing his mobile out of his pocket and wondering if he dared to load it up, given how low it was on battery. He noticed the cord hanging out of the power station under the dash and checked to see if it was the right connection. He plugged his phone in. "And really, with everything that's going on, don't you think the Her Majesty -- the one who hasn't tied you around her little finger, I mean -- won't bow to popular opinion?"

Arthur shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes from the road. "It's not happening."

Merlin smirked, but his amusement was short-lived considering his own situation. "I suppose it's about as likely to happen as me becoming the Royal Sorcerer."

Arthur didn't answer, which was a surprise. His hands closed tightly around the steering wheel, though, knuckles going white. Merlin's eyes narrowed.

"You knew," Merlin said.

Arthur shot him a sidelong look full of, _And that surprises you, why, exactly?_ and exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

"You weren't going to bring it up?" Merlin asked.

"I've had other things on my mind," Arthur grumbled under his breath. 

"We're not in the army anymore, and it's Hell or high water before we go back. I remind you we've already been through both and once was enough," Merlin said. "What could you _possibly_ have on your mind?"

Arthur was silent for a long time. A muscle in his jaw clenched. He made an unnecessary lane change before he answered. "Morgana thinks I should run for office."

Merlin started to speak, only to find the words stuck in his throat, trapped between outrage that Morgana would suggest Arthur take on a job that would take him away from Merlin, and annoyed that he hadn't thought of it himself. Grudgingly, he admitted, "You'd have the popular vote, that's for certain. You should skip the usual road and go straight for the PM's job."

Arthur's expression soured. "First of all, I don't want to be a politician. Second, the government's a fucking mess right now. Do you really think I'd be happy trying to make everything work when I'd rather blow it all up from scratch again? Considering everything we've been through, I'm really not in the mood for another war where I can't even use my best weapons."

Merlin grimaced. "Fair point." 

If it were up to him, he'd probably want to do the same thing. He privately thought Arthur was underestimating himself -- his best weapons were those that he used every day. Feats of strength were nothing when Arthur's cunning could outwit even the most experienced politician, but Merlin imagined he'd heard enough arguments about it.

Merlin didn't want to argue. He just wanted to be _home_. He wanted to be home with Arthur and Aithusa for as long as he could. 

After a few kilometres, Arthur's shoulders sagged. "I don't want to do anything. I don't want to make a decision right now. You're right. We're not in the army anymore. We should be doing what we want to do. I want to go back to my old job, help Morgana run things, _move on_."

Merlin stared at his hands. "Hard to do when we made those plans before everything went to shite."

Brows furrowed, Arthur merged into the traffic ahead, glancing at Merlin at his first opportunity. Merlin knew the exact moment when Arthur had figured him out, because Arthur snorted. "You hate it."

"I fucking hate it," Merlin moaned, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. "I hate everything."

He hated the business that Gwen and Morgana were helping him build. He hated the paperwork. There never seemed to be enough time to write briefs and reports, never mind to meet with prospective investors, new stockholders, and the skeleton administration team. He hated poring over job applications, spending the little time that he had on R&R on complete strangers and directing them in the company's mandate and in construction. He hated --

He hated the entire idea. In university, it had seemed like such a good plan. A way for him to continue to design and innovate, to experiment and explore. But now that the company he'd dreamed of was coming to fruition, he…

Merlin was a powerful sorcerer who could _stop time_. He wished he could also reverse it so that he could go back to the past and tell himself what a bad idea it was.

"Merlin," Arthur said quietly.

Merlin shook his head but kept his face right where it was -- in the fold of his hands, where he'd never need to look at another business plan or grant proposal or legal-wording contracts ever, ever again.

"Merlin," Arthur said again. His tone was firmer, and somehow more amused than ever. Merlin refused to lower his hands, even when Arthur reached over to tug at his arm, but he finally relented and sat back with a sigh. 

"What?"

"Don't think about it," Arthur said. "You're home. We're barely out of our tours. We'll figure it out."

Merlin sighed, but nodded. 

"Why don't you get some sleep? I've got us booked at a hotel on the way," Arthur said.

"Why didn't you book me straight to Heathrow?" Merlin complained, stretching his legs out. "We could've been home by now."

"Heathrow's a mess," Arthur said. "They're still repairing the runway from when Kilgarrah went after Knuckner."

"Oh, right. When was that again?" Merlin asked. Even though the team had been good about keeping each other updated with the news, a lot of that information blurred together. He remembered about the attack, but not the details.

"Couple of weeks ago," Arthur said. After a pause, he added, "Knuckner got away. Might not want to mention it to Kilgarrah if you see him. He gets sour about it."

Merlin snorted. 

The sun descended over the horizon. The landscape whizzed by. Other vehicles either raced ahead, or Arthur sped along, passing them easily. 

Arthur reached for Merlin's hand and squeezed. Merlin was pretty sure that he dozed off, lulled to sleep by the music playing on the radio at low volume, the nearly-silent rumble of the engine, and the feeling of the road beneath the tyres. More than that, he was reassured by the warmth of Arthur's hand

**ooOOoo**

Arthur woke with a start.

The small town lights streamed through the narrow gap in the blackout curtains. Outside, the wind was blowing in random, but predictable gusts. The heater turned on with a blurble, blowing cold air into the room before finally warming up enough to counteract the damp that had seeped into the hotel room while they were sleeping.

In the distance, elevator doors closed, but the unhurried footfalls of two people approached. They continued on past Arthur and Merlin's room, their shadows flickering along in the crack between floor and door. Soft chatter followed them until they walked around the corner, found their room, struggled with the flimsy excuse of a keycard, and went inside.

Arthur listened for nearly a minute before releasing his grip on the gun under his pillow. He carefully drew his arm away from Merlin's waist and rolled onto his back. He rubbed his eyes.

The last few months had been a trial of surviving in a state of hyperalertness brought on by a series of unrelated events. 

An attempted kidnapping by a random woman who loved Aithusa so much, she believed herself to be Aithusa's real mother despite knowing nothing more about her than what little the media had managed to suss out -- Arthur, Merlin, and the others had worked very hard to keep Aithusa as much out of the tabloids as possible.

An assassination attempt that was more a lucky near-miss than anything else, Arthur's survival guaranteed only because his mobile had chosen that moment to ring Merlin's ringtone.

Ducking crowds of paparazzi who seemed to have a second sense for when Arthur was off-duty, following him around whenever he was in London. It had gotten so bad that he couldn't go to the bloody loo in a bar with his colleagues without someone coming in to get a photograph of his dick.

Or to suck it, because, apparently, no one believed that Arthur really was married, even if it was only by unregistered handfasting. The argument made by the last man making the attempt revolved largely around, _I don't see that Merlin bloke anywhere. I think it was all faked_ , despite Arthur's insistence in the contrary. 

And then there was the break-in attempt on the house when Arthur had been forced into some much-needed R&R. Morgana had dropped Aithusa off that night, much to Arthur's relief. Aithusa had crawled into Arthur's bed and cried herself to exhaustion because her _papa_ wasn't there, too. Arthur hadn't so much as drifted off for ten minutes before someone tried to enter the house. Merlin's wards had faded a little since he'd originally put them up, and they were sorely due for an upgrade.

Arthur sighed quietly. He rolled out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb Merlin. He didn't think anything short of a dragon crashing through their hotel room would wake Merlin, anyway, and even then, the effectiveness would be debatable. Still, Arthur wanted to make sure Merlin got all the sleep he needed. Merlin would never admit it, but Arthur knew that the last few months in particular had been hard on him.

Arthur went to the bathroom, shutting the door before flicking on the light. He winced at the glare, leaning against the counter until his eyes adjusted. 

The reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. Arthur looked, but he didn't see anything of the man he had been before he'd ever met Merlin. There were nights where he'd woken up in a cold sweat, having dreamed that he'd never met Merlin at all, and the man he'd become in a changed world of might and magic had been…

A monster.

The recurring nightmare made him search the mirror again and again, never wanting to see a trace of that creature. But all he could see was what he saw now -- dark circles under his eyes, hollows in his cheeks, a scar on his nose where he'd gotten a good blow during training with some of the younger SAS officers. He'd lost weight, dropped half a stone in muscle mass, and though his jacket was tight in the shoulders, his shirts were loose around the chest.

New wrinkles furrowed his brow and creased the corners of his eyes. There were lines around his mouth, too, but they couldn't be blamed on anything but disgust and disappointment, on anger and frustration.

 _It's over_ , Arthur mouthed to himself in the mirror.

No more army. No more demands vying for his attention. He wasn't expected back at work immediately; Morgana had told him to take all the time he needed.

He planned on it.

Arthur peeled the cellophane overwrap from the plastic cup and filled the cup with water. He drank it dry, turned off the light, and left the bathroom.

The bedroom was illuminated by a light too pale for the harsh fluorescent of the bedside table. Arthur rounded the corner cautiously, not sure what he'd find. On the rare occasions that Arthur and Merlin were able to spend time together while on active duty, Arthur would sometimes wake up to strange, often shapeless magical _presences_. Dragons or clouds, fluffy sheep or sleeping dogs -- those were the mildest images that Arthur remembered, though sometimes they took on a darker bent, like crystals shining ungodly shades, zombies lurching about the room, creatures never seen by man but that Merlin had either witnessed or that his subconscious had dreamed up.

The light was white-blue, which usually heralded something nice, but when Arthur's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw that Merlin was awake, a small glowing globe floating an inch above his palm. Merlin's eyes were wide, there was a startled skew to his limbs, and the tension seeped out of him as soon as he focused on Arthur.

A small part of Arthur wanted to chastise Merlin for relying on his magic to defend himself, but mostly, Arthur regretted the circumstances that had made it that Merlin would wake with an offensive spell at the ready.

"It's just me," Arthur said.

"You weren't here," Merlin muttered. The sphere in his palm twisted in the air and became a translucent cube; the colour emitted went from light blue to a rich, vibrant shade, darkening the room. It floated up in the air on its own until it nestled in place in what appeared to be the perfect middle of the room, twisting and turning like a disco ball. Merlin knuckled his eyes and dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, I --"

"Don't." Arthur sat on the bed, half-turned toward Merlin. He stared at nothing until he realized that there was a mirror on the opposite wall, glistening with unformed shapes barely reflected by the small mage-light overhead. He sighed and slid under the blankets, stretching out next to Merlin. "If it helps, I went for my gun and almost shot the door when I heard the elevator bell."

Merlin snorted, but there was no real amusement to the sound. "I didn't hear that."

"You were out like a light," Arthur said. "At least, until I got up. Sorry --"

"Don't," Merlin said. He sighed, and the cube-light winked out, bathing the room in darkness. "Feels like we're going to use up all our apologies for nothing. We know what we're like. What the war's done to us. It'll… It'll get better."

Arthur nodded. The ink on their discharge papers wasn't dry yet. This was their first night without any obligations or threats looming over their heads. Time. Time was what they needed before either of them would be able to settle into civilian life again.

They'd need to talk to someone, too, to get out of their own heads. But that could wait until they'd had some time to themselves.

They laid in silence, neither one of them moving. Arthur closed his eyes and tried to sleep, the tension persistent in his shoulders. After what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes again, watching the lights from the town seep through the window.

"Are you awake?" Arthur asked, his voice low in case Merlin had managed to fall asleep.

"Yeah," Merlin said. "Are you?"

Arthur snorted. He pressed a kiss to Merlin's shoulder. Neither of them moved.

Merlin sighed. "You know what --"

"Yeah, absolutely, right now," Arthur said, pushing the blankets away and rolling off the bed. The room was suddenly bright with light -- mage lights and that ugly lamp by the bedside. Merlin reached for his clothes, getting dressed in a hurry. Arthur threw their toiletries in the small overnight bag. He was finished by the time Merlin sorted out his duffel bag, and they were out of their room and standing in front of the elevator in less than ten minutes.

"I can drive," Merlin offered.

"You barely slept three hours," Arthur said.

"Pretty sure you slept less than me," Merlin said.

"I'm not the one who's been stuck in an airplane for most of the last twenty-four hours," Arthur retorted.

"I'm the one who's used to staying up for three days straight, not you," Merlin said with a grunt.

"And more reason for me to drive. You're sleep-drunk," Arthur said.

"Fine," Merlin said.

"Fine," Arthur said. He reached for Merlin's hand; Merlin caught his hand first, twining their fingers together. Arthur pulled Merlin close and kissed him. 

Gentle, chaste, wistful.

Merlin smiled before pulling away, peppering multiple kisses on Arthur's lips before leaning against Arthur. Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin's waist and held him until they arrived at the lobby.

"Wait here. I'll check us out," Arthur said, dropping his overnight bag at Merlin's feet. He pushed the keycards to the concierge.

"Was there a problem with your room, sir?" the man asked, his brows furrowed. "I'd be happy to change them to a different --"

"The room was fine," Arthur said. He handed over his credit card.

"We have some newly renovated rooms on the upper floor, Mr. Pendragon. I can clear out --"

Arthur glanced up unhappily. The concierge wasn't the same man who had checked them in, and he hadn't even run the keys in the system nor glanced at the credit card. Clearly, Arthur had been recognized.

Arthur was still getting used to it, though he doubted that he ever would. What bothered him was the tone in people's voices when they spoke to him. Open familiarity, as if they felt they had a right into his life -- to judge, to question, to criticize. They called him _Arthur_ or _Mr. Pendragon_ or _Captain_ \-- even though he had received two promotions since -- and clapped a hand on his back as if they regularly met up for pints at the local corner bar. Other times, that familiarity became a smarmy attempt to connect with him, to latch onto and feed on whatever attention that they could get because they were Arthur's newest mate.

Arthur had avoided a lot of that. Being an active member in the country's military force gave him reasons to be out of the country and away from the public eye during ongoing missions. The uniform served as an effective barrier against curious, questing hands. But on those days when he left the War Council for a few hours of sleep before beginning another round of planning, there was always someone waiting for him.

Private citizens, tourists, media, and in one curious example, a corporate sponsor wanting him to promote their brand of soda. They all tried to ambush Arthur in one way or another. Waiting for him outside MI-5. Lingering in the foyer at Parliament. Hunting him down at the local chippie. Following him home.

"Check us out, please," Arthur said firmly, ignoring the concierge's earnest look. A spike of paranoia made him wonder if the concierge had been planning to call the paps in to greet Arthur and Merlin when they left in the morning. He imagined the headlines -- _Pendragon Out and About With Other Man_ , big black letters over a blurry photograph hiding Merlin's face, the reporting making it seem as if it were a sordid affair.

Arthur had listened to enough of Morgana's public relations tirades to know that this sort of news reporting would bring about an avalanche of hate mail and bad publicity, even if Merlin swore right and left that he was the one in the hotel room with Arthur.

This was not the future he'd envisioned when they finally got out of the army.

"All right?" Merlin asked, frowning when Arthur returned. 

Arthur forced himself to be less murderous and managed a faint nod. Merlin seemed to understand. He picked up his duffel bag and Arthur's overnighter, tilting his head for the both of them to leave as quickly as possible.  
 Arthur glanced over his shoulder, his mood souring even more when he saw the concierge bring a phone to his ear.

"I could hex him," Merlin offered.

A small, malicious part of Arthur almost said, _Yes, please_. Instead, he shook his head and murmured, "Let's just get out of here before this turns into a media circus."

They were on the road, heading to London, before either of them spoke, and it was Merlin who broke the silence. "Maybe we should give Mickey that exclusive we promised him."

Arthur glanced at Merlin. "We just got here. I was hoping for a few months of peace and quiet before we dealt with that bollocks."

Merlin made a small sound as he tilted his seat back and made himself as comfortable as he could. He twisted the knobs on the dash until he had the heat pointed at him. "You and me both, love. But Morgana told us not to put it off too long, and here we are, nearly eighteen months later, and there's been no team footage since the bridge. Well, except for you. Now that we're all home, they'll be rabid over new photos and video. At least with Mickey, we control what we give them."

Arthur didn't answer.

"I don't really fancy some pap crawling up the waterspout on the house next door, snapping a picture of me on the loo, pants down around my ankles," Merlin said.

Arthur snorted.

"Or them using a ladder to see over Bohrs' hedges, trying to take pictures of Aithusa when she plays in the yard," Merlin said.

"They've tried," Arthur said, hands gripping the steering wheel angrily. "Your wards are holding, though. They mess with the cameras."

Merlin fell silent. Even the radio stopped playing. A dangerous note slipped into his voice when he asked, "They've _tried_?"

Arthur winced. 

"And you didn't tell me?" 

"Don't treat me like I'm the bad guy! Of course I didn't tell you!" Arthur snapped. "You were on a mission! I didn't want you to be distracted, all right? I wanted you to come home alive. By the time it was over and done with, there was nothing I could do, the pap had his blurry pictures, and I sent lawyers after his goddamned arse! Aithusa never noticed, and if she did, she didn't care. She's seen worse. She's a bloody _dragon_ \--"

"That's not a fucking excuse to blow it off like it's nothing --"

Arthur glanced in the rear view mirror, saw that there was no one behind them, and pressed on the brakes, pulling over to the shoulder. He shoved the engine in park and shifted in his seat to look at an incensed Merlin. "If you think, for one second, that I don't care about Aithusa's well-being, you can bloody well get out of the car and walk home!"

Merlin blinked at him.

Arthur replayed what he'd just said, sighed heavily, and rubbed a hand on his face.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Merlin asked.

"I think we both need to get home," Arthur muttered. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," Merlin said, reaching out to take Arthur's hand. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, and Arthur reveled in the companionable silence. 

The last few months had been trying, and not just on the two of them. An underlying tension had been growing between the team members, between individuals and their families, between Excalibur and the rest of the world. They had been on active duty for far too long, with too short breaks in between, and any R&R they could get their hands on was ultimately a quick trip to the pub, a few hours with loved ones, and a hasty rush back to the base to catch their flight to their assigned destination.

Morgana and Leon had gotten in more than one screaming fight over… absolutely nothing. Gwen was too tired to talk to Lance some nights now that she was working again and acting as the sole caregiver to their child, which left Lance depressed and distressed. Arthur might be largely based out of London and was out in the field for most of his team's big missions, but those few times when he had Aithusa with him at the house were spent trying to dig his way out of an administrative nightmare.

The rest of the team fared no better. While Galahad and Geraint were still thick as thieves, their friendship was frayed from too many close calls. Perceval and Gwaine broke up twice for no other reason than neither of them could handle each other's tendency for doing stupid shite, and at the moment, were in the off-again stage of their relationship. Will and Kay were currently not speaking to each other, and Bran had called Arthur a few times to complain that he wasn't _their fucking messenger boy_. 

Owain was quieter these days, stinging from too many losses and silently suffering from injuries that had yet to heal all the way. Gareth had nearly been killed twice in the line of fire and four more times from his own clumsiness; Lamorak nearly faced disciplinary action when he went AWOL to get to Gareth at the military hospital in Germany. Bohrs survived a particularly harsh Russian winter without the tip of his nose, the little finger on his left hand, and three toes, but he'd broken up a dragon-egg smuggling ring. Pellinor's air tanks had run dry on an undersea mission and he emerged from the Atlantic with a bad case of the bends that would keep him out of deep-sea diving permanently. The enemy caught Lucan sniffing too close for comfort and ran him off the grid for several months, leaving the team to believe him dead.

They'd done everything for their country. Some days it didn't feel like it was enough. Other days, it felt like they had nothing more to give.

Arthur pulled Merlin's hand to his lips and kissed Merlin's knuckles. "Let's go home."

"Yeah," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur took the car out of park. The roads were mostly clear and it was a straight shot to London. Merlin reached over and tapped the radio in an attempt to get it working again, but his earlier temper had shorted it out. The silence in the car was filled with tinny music out of Merlin's smartphone, interrupted every now and then by a news broadcast from somewhere on the other side of the world. It was nice to listen to because it didn't remind them of the troubles that lingered in their homeland.

"I was thinking --" Arthur began.

"We should probably --" Merlin stumbled to a stop.

They glanced at each other and simultaneously said, "You first."

Arthur snorted. Merlin said, "Rock, paper, scissors."

"Fine," Arthur said. Arthur came out with scissors, Merlin appeared with rock -- as usual -- and Arthur, very unsurprised, gestured for Merlin to go ahead.

"Um," Merlin said, rubbing his brow as if regretting his decision. "All right. How attached are you to the house?"

Arthur laughed. "I was actually about to suggest we find a new place."

"Oh, good," Merlin said, his sigh so heavy that he deflated. "I was worried. So, new house? In London, outside of London?"

"Out," Arthur said without hesitation. "Aithusa's going to need the space, isn't she? Not just for when she gets older, but for all those visits she gets from her subjects. It's easy in Camelot, there's plenty of room, but at home?" 

"Not so much," Merlin finished for him. He frowned. "What about the commute?"

"Morgana pretty much runs the company," Arthur said with a shrug. It was an easy decision to make. "I can work from home, head in only when I need to."

Merlin was silent for a few moments before nodding. "I could sell my company."

Arthur glanced at him with a frown. "You just started that. It was your dream."

"Not really, actually," Merlin said, scoffing. "Paperwork? Patent applications? Hunting down everyone who's reverse-engineering my toys and selling them for cheap? Dealing with investors and the bank? Hiring people?"

Merlin's voice rose to a high pitch toward the end, bordering on exasperated.

"I just want to make things," Merlin said mournfully.

Arthur could see it in his head. A house -- maybe a farm with enough acreage for a small, sustainable plot, a few horses, and plenty of room for Aithusa to spread her wings. At the rate she was growing in her dragon form, she would need a lot of room.

The property would need to have a second barn, at least, that could be converted into a workshop for Merlin -- Arthur was not going to have to deal with the mechadragon gouging his dining room table again, or dive-bombing him from the kitchen cabinets. He'd need an office -- they both would -- and Arthur rather fancied sharing one with Merlin, even though he knew it would be inevitable that Merlin's blueprints would encroach onto his desk.

It couldn't be too far from London. They both had work there. General Tachnathar had made it clear that he expected Arthur would remain part of the British Army even if only as a consultant, though they would deal with that once Arthur had had his downtime. Even from the other side of the world, Merlin had been helping Kathy with the training schools that were popping up around the United Kingdom, liaising with the Directory, and fending off the Queen's requests to become the Royal Sorcerer.

Camelot would remain Camelot -- a small village that had grown out of desperation and survival. They would keep the cottage or build a house on a lakefront property not too far away for privacy and quiet, but Camelot was too far for the commutes that Arthur expected both of them would have to do on a frequent basis.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I might know of a company that would be interested in buying yours."

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "If it's Cenred King, the answer is no. Again."

Arthur scoffed. "As if I'd give King a shot at anything you make -- may as well shoot ourselves in the foot while we're at it. We might not be able to prove it yet, but we know he was working with the NWO. Who else is he working with?"

"Not our problem," Merlin said. "Fine, then. Who is it?"

"You might've heard of them. They've been around for a while. Solid, good track record, currently reviewing company policies and mandates," Arthur said.

"Yeah? Is that right?" Amusement coloured Merlin's tone.

"They're particularly interested in the mechadragon as both a surveillance drone, and as a non-violent deterrent for crowd control. It's got an unique AI, a solid flight design, and robust telemetry," Arthur said casually. "They understand that there's still a great deal to be done and that there are other projects in the queue. I gather that they would be willing to leave you a controlling interest so that you have final say, give you a seat on the board if you want it, but generally give you creative discretion for technological advancement and innovation."

Merlin was silent for a long time. Arthur didn't dare glance at him for fear that he would give himself away.

"And who would be my boss?"

"No boss," Arthur said. "Quarterly reports to the board, and as long as there's progression with the new technology, you'd have free reign. You won't have to deal with the paperwork, someone else will handle the budget and finding research funds…"

"It sounds really good," Merlin said, suspicious. "Almost too good. What's the catch?"

"Well." Arthur hesitated, glancing sideways. He drove for another kilometre before he sighed heavily and said, "The top company brass want you to agree to two non-negotiable clauses."

"And what are those?" Merlin asked, drawing away from Arthur until his back was pressed against the passenger door. Arthur thought he looked very much like cornered prey.

"Nothing serious, I promise," Arthur said.

"I'll be the judge of that. Clearly, the president of the company has been having conversations about it behind my back," Merlin said. He sounded more amused than upset, which was a good sign.

"Only because Gwen was complaining about all the paperwork. She pointed out, and rightly so, that Pendragon Consulting already has all the resources in place and it would be to our benefit if we blended her division with your company," Arthur said. He paused, and added, "She's hoping that if you're in charge, the two of you can take turns on who gets to stay home with the kids, do some additional babysitting --"

"Was that one of the clauses?" Merlin interrupted.

"Unfortunately, it's one of the downsides," Arthur said.

"Sounds like a benefit to me, actually," Merlin said.

"Well, you'd have to work it out with Gwen if the merger goes through," Arthur said.

Merlin gave him a wry look. "All right. Let's have it. The bottom line."

"Morgana wants a photograph of you in high heels, nylon stockings, and a miniskirt. She'll let you pick the colour, but you have to absolutely have a pink flamenco feather boa," Arthur said. "She agreed that the photograph would only come out at parties and anniversaries, that she wouldn't post it anywhere, and that she'd destroy negatives and digital copies as soon as she has her one framed print."

Merlin stared, jaw slack.

"You'd have plenty of opportunity to destroy it, of course. That's assuming that you can. Morgana's visions are getting stronger, you know," Arthur said hurriedly.

Merlin continued to stare.

Arthur thought that he had broken Merlin, but Merlin suddenly burst out in laughter. He laughed so hard that the car shook despite driving twenty over the current speed limit on the roads, tears streaming down his face. It took several long minutes before he pulled himself together, and even then, he kept giggling.

"I don't know who told her, I swear," Arthur said. "It wasn't me. Honestly, I'd completely forgotten about it until she brought it up."

"Will. This smells of Will, all over," Merlin said, wiping his cheek. He put on a serious look. "Well, this is going to have to be a really good offer for me to accept it with that condition."

"I thought as much," Arthur said. "There's another condition, remember?"

"Right. What was it?"

"I'm not sure you're going to like it any better than the flamenco-feather-boa thing," Arthur said.

"I'm not sure that anything could possibly top that," Merlin said, shaking his head.

"All right -- this one, it's a condition from the company president," Arthur said.

"Okay," Merlin said. There was a twinkle in his eye when he gestured graciously for Arthur to get on with it.

"Completely non-negotiable. I mean, really not up for discussion," Arthur said. He paused for a minute before he reconsidered, "Well, honestly, even if you say no, the deal will still go through. It's really not a clause that will hold up in court. In fact, we might want to take it out entirely."

"You're starting to worry me," Merlin said quietly, a furrow in his brow. "All this wishy-washy bollocks. This isn't like you."

Arthur fell silent. They passed a sign notifying them of an exit up ahead. It wasn't London and it wasn't how Arthur had planned it, but it would do. If there was one thing that he'd learned during the war, it was that life was far too short to plan out every single detail.

He drove for a while longer. Merlin didn't say anything, though he alternated between studying Arthur's face and looking straight ahead to see where they were going. Arthur turned onto park land, driving the length of the empty parking lot and coming to a stop in front of a little wooden bridge stretching over a bubbling brook, leading right into the park.

"Come on," Arthur said, turning off the engine. "I don't want to be driving for this."

He left the car without another word, not wanting to give Merlin a chance to argue. He was over the bridge, his heart pounding like mad, before he heard the passenger door open and close. He kept going until he found a little grove bathed in the light of the waxing moon.

Merlin approached, hands in his jacket, his head down. When he was close enough, he said, "I feel like I should make a joke about serial killers and dumping grounds, but --"

"Merlin," Arthur said, impatient.

"Or maybe you're just going for corny, because you get like that when you're drunk. When you're tired, too, but it's not usually as bad," Merlin said, lingering halfway through the clearing.

"Just come over here," Arthur said, waving a hand. His chest felt tight, as if it was going to explode. They'd already done this. They'd done it all in reverse, actually. He shouldn't be nervous. He had a pretty good idea of what Merlin's answer was going to be.

There was a long silence before Merlin said or did anything. When he did, it was with a simple, resolute, determined, "Okay." When he reached Arthur, Arthur took Merlin's hands --

But Merlin was the one who squeezed his fingers and went to one knee.

Arthur stuttered, blinking down.

"You're such a prat," Merlin said softly. "You can't possibly have forgotten already. I already said yes."

"I know," Arthur breathed. "I just --"

"You can ask me a million times and it will be perfect each time. My answer will always be the same. Yes. _Yes_. I will marry you," Merlin said, his voice catching. "In a grove, in front of a General, in the middle of a bloody swamp, in a Church -- _Gods and Goddesses help us_ \-- with the paps snapping pictures until we go blind. I don't care where or when. As far as I'm concerned, we've been married a long time --"

He stumbled to a stop, realization glittering in his eyes.

"It's today," Arthur whispered, filling the silence. "Happy anniversary."

Merlin laughed softly, and it was so joyful and bright that Arthur's chest loosened, warmth spreading through him. He bent down to kiss Merlin, and it was soft and wonderful.

"Marry me again."

**ooOOoo**

One phone call.

Someone's life could completely change with just one phone call.

Morgana had the papers written up to transfer ownership of Merlin's company to Pendragon Consulting and to sort out the details of Merlin's employment within three hours of Arthur's phone call. Merlin spent the day going over contracts, signing and initializing wherever there were post-it arrow pointers, and getting a new employee orientation that was more a formality than anything else.

The _For Sale_ sign went up at the house one week after contacting a real estate agent that Gwen recommended to them. Charming and overwhelming all in the same breath, _Madame_ Catrina Detombage assured them that she would take care of all of the details, promising a sale in excess of their initial asking price within the month. Apparently, a combination of the owner's reputation and the magical essence that still lingered in the woodwork made the property particularly attractive.

A penthouse flat -- with roof access for the dragons who insisted on visiting the Dragonlord and their Queen -- in a secure building that would take care of keeping the paparazzi out had been purchased in preparation for their occasional stays in London on business when neither of them had any desire to make the long drive home.

But any additional plans, including taking a clingy Aithusa on an overdue visit to the London Museum of Natural History, were quickly derailed when they received a summons from the Queen.

The other one.

"But the _museum_!" Aithusa whined, stomping her foot. The desired effect was subdued when her shoe slipped on the plush carpet in the flat's living room. "You promised!"

Arthur clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder, squeezed reassuringly, and murmured, "She's all yours."

Merlin glared at Arthur's retreat into the kitchen where he picked up the stainless steel kettle to inspect his tie and straighten it. Merlin turned to Aithusa with an inward sigh, crouching down in front of her. "The museum will always be there, honey."

As soon as he said the words, he knew it was a mistake, because Aithusa burst into tears. "You promised! You promised you'd take me to the museum! You promised you wouldn't go away again! You promised you'd never leave me again!"

"Oh, Christ," Merlin murmured, scooping Aithusa into his arms and standing up. He didn't know what he was doing. He was the absolute worst accidental parent in the _universe_. 

Aithusa's little body shuddered against him, wracked with sobs. He rubbed her back soothingly and rocked her, crooning wordless reassurances that only Aithusa would understand. He mouthed, _Sorry_ , to Arthur, because they were already late, and Aithusa's temper tantrum was setting them back even more.

Arthur shrugged, more concerned for Aithusa than for their appointment with Her Royal Majesty. He pulled out his mobile, tapped on it a few times, and mouthed back, _Tomorrow_.

Merlin nodded gratefully. He rocked Aithusa in his arms until she calmed down enough to listen to him. He sat her down in the middle of the couch, wrangling her octopus hands and legs away from him, and accepted the wet cloth Arthur gave him to wipe the streaks of tears from Aithusa's cheeks.

"I'm keeping my promise," Merlin said, keeping his voice low as he wiped her hands, too, because that always seemed to calm her down for some reason. "I'm never leaving you again. I'm not going anywhere. And we will take you to the museum, but it just can't be today."

"But why?" Aithusa asked, her voice broken, her eyes glistening with tears.

Merlin gave Arthur a pleading look. For all that Arthur had been just as busy as Merlin during the war, of the two of them, Arthur was the one who had been home the most. He'd been there for Aithusa in ways that Merlin hadn't. Arthur was more accustomed to Aithusa's moods and knew how to deal with them.

Except, Arthur looked to be just as much at a loss as Merlin, which made Merlin feel a tiny bit better about his own lack of parenting skills, and a thousand times worse, because he didn't know how to make things better for Aithusa.

"You're important to us, Aithusa. When we promised to take you to the museum, we agreed to go _all day_ , didn't we?" Merlin said.

"Yeah," Aithusa said, sniffling. 

"Well, it was supposed to be today," Merlin said. He glanced at Arthur; Arthur gave him an encouraging nod that in no way helped Merlin figure out what to say. "But we have to meet with someone."

"Tell them no," Aithusa said, a little furrow forming in her brow. It would have been adorable if it wasn't a sign that she was about to have another tantrum.

"We would, believe me, but we can't," Arthur said. 

Aithusa must have heard the regret in Arthur's tone, because she gave him a curious look. Arthur had found diplomatic ways to avoid previous invitations to Buckingham Palace, but those invitations had been subtle inquiries and nothing more than what Arthur had termed _feelers_ , as if Her Royal Majesty's staff had been taking his measure. A direct summons, however, was more difficult to weasel out of. 

"Why not?" Aithusa asked.

"Because the person we are meeting with today is a Queen, just like you," Merlin said.

"I don't care," Aithusa said petulantly. Then, more earnestly, she said, "I'm your Queen, not her!"

"Yes, honey, you certainly are, and that's never going to change," Merlin said, ignoring Arthur's amused smile. "The Queen we're meeting is a very nice lady, and we think you two would be very good friends."

"I don't want any new friends," Aithusa said, bordering on a whine. "I've got Bran and Laure, and I want to play with _them_."

"I know, and you'll see them soon," Merlin said. "But there aren't that many Queens in the world. Don't you think that Queens should be friends, too?"

Aithusa stared at her lap, her lower lip sticking out. She plucked at the frilly edging of her skirt, her claws coming out a little bit, and Merlin worried for the safety of the pretty dress that Morgana bought. He also worried for the condition of his own neck if Morgana ever found out that Aithusa had been so upset that she destroyed the dress, so he pushed the damp washcloth into her hands and let her tear at it instead.

"I guess," she finally said, her voice small.

"We won't stay long," Merlin said, sending a silent apology to Arthur, but if push came to shove and Aithusa got upset again, he would pick her up and walk out of an audience with the Queen of England, leaving Arthur to deal with the aftermath. He was grateful when Arthur nodded in agreement.

Aithusa released a put-upon sigh, as if the change in plans was such an inconvenience. She kicked out her little legs, her shoes catching on Merlin's wrist. Merlin drew his arm away out of reflex, even though it didn't hurt, and Aithusa immediately stopped, her expression twisted in tearful apology. She launched herself at Merlin, and he caught her easily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!"

"Oh, honey, it's okay. I'm not mad," Merlin said, standing up. 

Aithusa clung to him as if she was afraid he would disappear -- something that was happening less and less with every day that passed, but it was also a fear that would probably never entirely fade. He couldn't imagine what she had been through before they found her, and the therapist Arthur had found could only tell them that she avoided talking about anything before Merlin and Arthur entered her life and that there would be good days and bad days.

Today was one of the bad days.

"I could call --" Arthur trailed off when Merlin shook his head with a little frown. 

Merlin didn't want him to finish the sentence, regardless of how it would end -- whether it was, _I could call Gwen to see if she could watch Aithusa for a few hours,_ or, _I could call and offer our excuses and hope the Queen doesn't think about bringing back hangings as justifiable punishments for slights made against the Crown_. 

Merlin paced back and forth slowly, and bit by bit, Aithusa's body relaxed, and the tight, nearly suffocating grip around Merlin's neck eased, allowing him to take a deep breath. "Do you want to bring Sebastian with you?"

"Yeah," Aithusa said. 

Merlin started to put her down, but her grip tightened, so he carried her to the bedroom. He bent over so that she could grab the fuzzy moose he'd bought in Canada during one of his stopovers, smiling to himself when she tugged the toy under her chin. He gave her a few more minutes to see which way her mood would go, but when she stayed quiet and calm, he carried her into the living room.

Arthur gave them an appraising look. "Are you sure?"

"Not really, but it's not as if we have a choice," Merlin said. He adjusted Aithusa in his arms. Even after all this time, she hadn't grown very much, but however slight she appeared, she was still heavy.

"Can we go for ice cream after?" Aithusa asked, startling them both. 

The question was as close as they would get to Aithusa in a good mood, given the circumstances. Arthur pulled on his overcoat, picked up Merlin and Aithusa's coats, and found his keys.

"We absolutely can," Merlin promised. If all the shops were closed by the time the Queen was done with them, Merlin was pretty sure that Arthur would wake up the owner of Aithusa's favourite place and have them keep it open for Aithusa all night, if necessary.

 

* * *

 

The look on Arthur's face was priceless. Merlin wished he dared whip his mobile out of his pocket to take a picture.

The Queen smiled kindly at Arthur, a no-nonsense, _I've got your number_ , glimmer in her eyes that she promptly turned to Merlin. Merlin bowed his head, well and fully aware that he'd been avoiding every attempt to induct him as the Royal Sorcerer, and focused on Aithusa, who was shifting restlessly in her seat, clearly ready to leave.

"Our country owes you two a great debt," the Queen said. "Allow us to recognize that."

She rose to her feet a moment later. The entire room rose, too, except for Aithusa, who was sitting primly in her seat, tugging at Sebastian's antlers and ignoring the little crown that had been the Queen's gift to her. The Queen said her good-byes and waved to Aithusa, who smiled shyly and waved back, and departed with her grandson and her attendants.

They were left alone in a stuffy room full of suits who stared judgmentally at the two of them before sitting down again. "If we send Ms Reddinger over, she's bound to make him presentable for the ceremony," one of them sniffed.

"The stylist?" another asked. "Yes, she's a good choice. Call her and make arrangements."

"I can dress myself, thank you very much," Arthur said firmly. "There's no need --"

"Oh, Major Pendragon, the stylist wouldn't be for you. It would be for _him_ ," the man said, glancing pointedly in Merlin's direction. "I'm afraid he requires quite a bit of help."

Merlin glanced at himself. He was a little rumpled, yes, but that was because he'd had to carry Aithusa from the car to the palace, and somehow, the suit jacket had gotten wrinkled before he could put it on. It was even a suit that Arthur had bought for him -- the expensive sort that required standing motionless on a raised platform while a tailor with too many pins in their mouth shoved their hands uncomfortably close to his groin to measure the inseam. Granted, it had been purchased six months ago at his last R&R, but he'd clearly lost weight since then.

The shoulders were a little narrow, strangely enough, and the trousers needed to be taken in, but the remark was very much uncalled for, considering that the Queen herself had made a little speech about how much the country appreciated their hard work and sacrifice. 

"Don't talk about my daddy that way," Aithusa said, a low growl in her voice. 

She might be small, but there was no ignoring the fact that she was, in all things, a dragon. Merlin winced -- not so much because of her tone, but because that pinch between her brows had returned.

"Yes, let's not," Arthur said calmly, crossing his legs at the knee. He leaned back in his chair now that he was no longer on ceremony, completely unwilling to be intimidated by these men, regardless of their titles and ranks. Merlin had to admit that it was a very good look on him. Sexy, even.

Several people exchanged glances.

"The Queen flatters me with her insistence to bestow knighthood. She can make her announcement, and I will accept it with all the grace I am capable of. I will endure the ceremony and I will put up with all the pomp and circumstance that comes with it. But allow me to make this clear. I don't need it. I'm in no hurry. I can postpone your attempts to schedule the very public ceremony indefinitely. And when the Queen asks why we haven't had the ceremony yet, shall I explain to her that her people insulted my husband, or shall I tell her that they made the dragon Queen angry enough that I'm keeping us from another war by refusing the knighthood?"

Arthur picked a non-existent piece of lint from his knee.

"Either way, it's all the same to me."

Arthur waited. Merlin bit his lower lip to keep from laughing and forced himself into a neutral expression. Several of the men and women turned to the man who had originally spoken, giving him an expectant look. The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat before he finally spoke.

"I meant no offence. I apologize."

Merlin didn't answer right away. He turned to Arthur, who shrugged faintly as if saying that it was up to him. Merlin looked at Aithusa and asked, "What do you think?"

"I don't like him," Aithusa said seriously. "He's not very nice."

"Looking at my notes," an older gentleman -- Merlin vaguely remembered he was a Duke, but the original introductions had been hurried -- said, glancing at a little notebook in his hand, "I don't believe that Mr Gregory is a key staff member in the proceedings, and there is no need for him to be here any longer."

Gregory swallowed audibly before quietly closing his notebook binder, making his excuses and strained good-byes, and leaving with his chin held obnoxiously high, acting more as if he was leaving of his own accord than from a face-saving dismissal.

"My hero," Merlin said. He glanced at Arthur, but he winked at Aithusa to make sure she knew he was talking about her, too.

"You're welcome," Aithusa said solemnly, wriggling in her seat.

Arthur smiled. The others did as well, though they were more careful about hiding their amusement from view.

"Can we go now?" Aithusa asked, kicking her legs out impatiently.

Merlin glanced around the room to weight how long it would take, but it was Arthur who gestured, raising several fingers. "Not quite yet. Do you want to leave your dad to talk with these people for a few more minutes? We can go for a walk."

"Okay," Aithusa said, sliding off her seat. She smoothed down her skirt, dragged Sebastian the Moose behind her, and held up her hand expectantly. Merlin took her hand.

"If you'll excuse us?" Merlin said. He didn't know what the proper protocol was, and frankly, he didn't care. If it meant that Aithusa wouldn't have another meltdown, Merlin would do it, whatever it was.

"Certainly," the Duke said indulgently, a small smile on his lips. 

Merlin led Aithusa toward the door.

"There's only a few more things to discuss, Mr Pendragon," the Duke said. "First of all, we will need to decide into which Order you will be inducted into. Our genealogists have uncovered that you have noble blood through your mother's side, and you would be welcomed into the Order of the Garter --"

Merlin shut the door on Arthur's annoyed glare, knowing that he was going to pay for it later. If Merlin were being honest, that commanding act of Arthur's was more than enough to get him going, and the usual punishment was hardly the hardship Arthur always pretended it would be.

Aithusa skipped playfully down the corridor, tugging at Merlin's arm, but when Merlin didn't move fast enough for her, she let go of his hand and went on ahead. Merlin followed her down the corridor and into a large sitting room overlooking the gardens.

"She's cute. Deadly, but cute."

Instinctively, Merlin's hand went for a gun at his hip and his magic came to the fore, swirling around him in a protective arc as he moved between Aithusa and Solomon Bayard. Bayard held up his hands defensively, his face set in an amused smirk even if the bright glint in his eyes spoke of fear. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm still the Queen's advisor in matters of magic," Bayard said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He glanced away, the tension in his shoulders relaxing a moment later. He turned to stare over Merlin's shoulder, and though Merlin couldn't see Aithusa, he could hear her scamper about, curious about everything and anything, which was a big turnaround from the awkward, self-restrained child from more than a year ago.

"So you are," Merlin said flatly. After a moment of consideration, Merlin asked, "What do you want?"

"What makes you think I want something?" Bayard asked, frowning. If it were anyone else, Merlin might even believe it. "I can't simply have come across --"

"Oh, stuff it," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. "I saw the guard go for his radio as soon as I left the meeting room. He wouldn't make eye contact when we walked by. Pretty sure I remember how to do my arithmetic. What. Do. You. Want?"

Bayard fell silent, his expression blank, but after a moment, a small, rueful smile creased his face. "To the point as always, I see."

Merlin crossed his arms and waited.

"I want to retire," Bayard said. 

Merlin would have scoffed if not for the wistfulness in Bayard's expression.

"I'm not who the Queen needs, not now," Bayard said, and this time, he met Merlin's eyes. There was a weight in his gaze, as if he was begging for Merlin to understand.

He did.

When Bayard had first come to the group, testing each and every member of Excalibur for magic, he had been doing that as much to find new recruits into the Directory as he did hoping to find a way to defeat the enemy. He'd "tested" them the only way he knew how. Through guile and trickery. He hadn't had enough magic of his own to be able to sense anyone else's magic, even if they hadn't already been trained to hide it.

It must have killed Bayard to realize that even in the aftermath of magic breaking loose in the world, awakening what was latent and dormant, his own magic remained unchanged.

For all his knowledge and expertise, in a world that was increasingly fuelled by magic, Bayard could no longer do the job he was meant to do. He couldn't protect Queen and country from the threats that had existed all along and from those that would emerge.

However it had come about, Bayard wasn't retiring for his own sake. 

"Of course, I cannot leave my position until I know that my successor has taken their place," Bayard said, breaking eye contact. "I hope to do so before the summer. You see, I have this lovely cottage in Cobham. It was an inheritance from my great-grandfather. My wife is there, as are my three daughters."

Merlin blinked. Somehow, he'd never thought of Bayard as a family man, never mind someone with children.

"I would, of course, be available as a consultant, should the need arise. But I've given it a great deal of thought, and… retirement? I believe it would agree with me." Bayard shifted on his heel, as if he intended to leave, but he paused. "It was nice seeing you again, Merlin."

Merlin watched him leave. There was a bit of saunter in Bayard's step, and Merlin's eyes narrowed, uncertain whether the conversation had been some sort of manipulation to get Merlin to do whatever it was that Bayard wanted him to do. _Retirement_ was a concept that didn't fit with Bayard's personality, and Merlin had a feeling that if he finally caved in and accepted the Queen's offer, Bayard would still be there, lurking in the shadows at court, plotting, plotting, plotting.

"Daddy!" Aithusa said, running toward him, her shoes _click-click-click_ ing on the polished floors.

Merlin caught her easily when she flung herself at him, lifting her up in the air. She squealed with laughter, loving to be high off the ground. It would be years yet before her wings had matured enough for flight, and Merlin could see yet another layer of paternal worry waiting for him in the future. But for now, he'd indulge her in the little things that brought her joy --

And if it meant ensuring that the skies were safe for her to fly in, then…

" _Damn it_ ," Merlin muttered under his breath.

"Oh, oh," Aithusa said, reaching down to put her hand over Merlin's mouth. "You said a bad word."

"I said a bad word," Merlin agreed, bringing her squirming frame down so that she could attach herself around his neck and chest as usual. "I'll put five pence in the jar when we get home."

"It's a pound now," Aithusa said.

"A full pound?" Merlin exclaimed. "Since when? Did your dad swear a lot when I was away?"

"Yeah," Aithusa said with a long drawl and a serious nod.

"But that's not fair," Merlin complained. "I've been good. That was my first bad word since I came home!"

"Too bad," Aithusa said, shrugging. 

Merlin side-eyed her -- for a second, she sounded like Bran. For all of Bran's good qualities, the boy could be a brat, too. "That's robbery!"

"One pound," Aithusa sing-songed, and Merlin mock-groaned as he carried her down the corridor.

"What are you going to do with all the money in the swear jar?" Merlin asked. 

They'd agreed to curb their language when they realized that Aithusa always flinched from it, though she had been getting better. She was quick to call them on the swearing, though, intent on filling up the big pickle jar as quickly as possible. What she wanted to do with it was a mystery, less because she was keeping it a secret, and more because she couldn't seem to decide.

Aithusa shrugged in answer, confirming Merlin's suspicions. She laid her head on his shoulder and yawned noisily, her chest vibrating like a growly little puppy.

"Are you tired?" Merlin asked, even though it was obvious. 

Naps were something they hadn't been able to instil into her routine, not yet, but sometimes, she would snuggle up with Merlin or with Arthur and nap. If Merlin could keep her calm and quiet, they might get lucky and she would nap when they got home, and they wouldn't have to deal with a sudden, unexpected crying stint at dinner time.

"Yeah," Aithusa said. She twisted a little in Merlin's arms, looking around, and pointed to where she'd left her plush toy. Merlin obliged her silent request and walked over, squatting down so that she could pick up the moose. He brought them both to the large window and rocked her gently in his arms.

For all the pomp and circumstance at the palace, it was quiet. Merlin felt some of his tension drain away. There was old magic on the grounds, hidden deep beneath the soil, more obvious now with the rise of magic than it had ever been before, and under the layers of magic that protected the building, Merlin could hear dragonsong. It was faint, diluted, nearly washed out, but it was there, resonant and restrained, as if welcoming them both with strained courtesy.

Aithusa could hear dragonsong, too, and no doubt that was why her earlier tantrum had never returned. She had been polite and sweet to the Queen, quiet and self-contained during the meeting, and if Merlin ignored how upset she had been that morning, he would say that this had been a good day for her.

He wondered if there were other places in England that were saturated with magic, where the dragonsong was strong and true. He made a mental note to ask Kilgarrah, or maybe Nid. Maybe they could settle there, in a place where Aithusa was comfortable and content, and damn the commute.

"There you are," Arthur said, his voice low so not to startle them. Merlin half-turned where he stood, careful not to move too quickly. He smiled at Arthur, a little amused at the frayed expression and aggravated tousle of his hair.

"Have they finished with you?" Merlin asked. He shifted closer when Aithusa held up her plush toy; Arthur took it from her and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. She giggled sleepily and curled up against Merlin even more.

Merlin subtly shifted her weight when she nearly squirmed out of his grasp.

"I've run the gauntlet for now," Arthur said grumpily. He rubbed Aithusa's back and tilted his head to gesture toward the attendant waiting for them at the other end of the corridor. The attendant was holding their coats pointedly, as if dropping a very meaningful, intent hint.

"Kicking us out, are they?"

"I insisted," Arthur said.

 

* * *

 

"That was the real estate agent," Arthur said, sounding tired. He held the phone up in the air before putting it down on the side table. "She's going to send a few more listings for us to look at. She thinks one of them will be the house we're looking for."

"That's what she said last time," Merlin said, stretching out on the opposite end of the sofa next to Arthur. He rubbed his face and exhaled. "Can we not? Not tonight? She's lovely and all, but she's _exhausting_."

"Hm," Arthur grunted. He shifted, tangling his legs with Merlin's, leaning his head back. The telly was frozen in the middle of _Up!_ , and after a few more seconds, Arthur reached out blindly for the remote, which fell from the edge of the coffee table and onto the ground. He twisted over to pick it up, turned the telly off, and settled on the sofa.

After a few quiet minutes, Merlin said, "If we fall asleep here, we're going to have a crick in our necks."

"Hm." Arthur didn't move.

"We've got a lovely, soft bed in the bedroom," Merlin said, somehow managing to squirm into a sitting position. He slid his legs off the edge and patted Arthur's thigh. "Come on. We can sleep there."

"Is Aithusa asleep?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah," Merlin said, getting to his feet with difficulty. Day-to-day life was exhausting, even if it wasn't commonplace for either of them to have a sit-down meeting with the Queen to discuss Arthur's forthcoming knighting. "After all that ice cream you bought her, I thought she'd never settle down, but I put her to bed and she's out cold, now."

"Good," Arthur murmured. "My God. It killed me when she stuck out her lower lip. How can you not want to give her the world?"

"Some days I wonder which of us she's got wrapped around her little finger," Merlin said.

"Both of us, and _all the time_ ," Arthur said without hesitation. Merlin gave him a wry smile.

He pulled Arthur to his feet. Arthur turned around and led them up the stairs and down the corridor to their bedroom. Most of the furniture from the house had gone into storage until they found a house they liked and could finally decide on where everything would go, but one non-negotiable was the bed. Arthur fancied a king size bed on a four-poster frame for the house, while Merlin had been sold on the decision ever since Arthur said _king size bed_.

But the bed they had wasn't terrible by any stretch of the imagination, and Merlin smiled when Arthur turned him around and backed him up until he felt the mattress press behind his knees. 

"I thought you were tired," Merlin said, tugging Arthur's shirt out of his trousers.

"Exhausted," Arthur said, his eyebrows pinching in a studious frown as he unbuttoned Merlin's shirt with far more concentration than necessary. 

Merlin unbuckled Arthur's belt and unzipped his trousers. In the process, his hand brushed against Arthur's hardening cock. "I could ride you."

"You haven't slept well the last few nights, and after today, you're far more tired than I am," Arthur said. He tugged the shirt all the way off and pulled Merlin's undershirt while Merlin tugged at Arthur's trousers and freed Arthur's cock.

"I have more energy than you," Merlin protested. 

Arthur turned him around easily and stripped him of his trousers and pants. "You say that now, but as soon as you're horizontal, you're going to doze off, and where am I going to be, then?".

Merlin shivered when Arthur kissed the back of his neck, bowing his head down in invitation for more. He ground against Arthur, feeling his own cock harden. "Probably balls deep in my arse."

"Is that an invitation?" Arthur kissed a line along Merlin's shoulders.

"An enthusiastic one," Merlin said, leaning forward, deliberately rubbing himself against Arthur's cock before crawling forward on the mattress. Arthur helpfully divested Merlin of his trousers and Merlin laid down on his belly, thrusting on the soft blankets to get some friction. He jerked up with a muted yelp when Arthur smacked him on the right arse cheek.

"None of that," Arthur said, completely serious as he pulled off his shirt. "I've already washed the duvet twice since we've moved and it takes forever to dry."

"Could you sound any more domestic?" Merlin asked, pulling the bedclothes down. The mattress shifted under Arthur's weight, and Merlin paused in mid-scramble when Arthur's hands gripped his hips.

"Yes, actually," Arthur said, kissing the base of Merlin's spine. He pushed and pulled, gentle but dominant as always, until Merlin was further up on the bed, positioned on his elbows, his knees apart. He pressed kisses toward Merlin's hole, the pauses in-between filled with casual conversation. "It's your turn to empty the dishwasher. Don't forget to pick up the dry-cleaning. Gwen's coming over later this week to bring Aithusa to a playdate. I need to do the shopping soon; we're nearly out of milk --"

Merlin laughed and fumbled until he managed to open the side drawer and find the lube. "If you keep up this dirty talk I won't last much longer."

Arthur laughed, too. He crawled down along Merlin's side, stretching out alongside, and kissed him. Gentle, tender, full of emotion, Merlin returned each kiss with all the love he had for Arthur, only to be left gasping when Arthur pulled away. Arthur cupped Merlin's cheek and murmured, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Merlin whispered.

Merlin endured Arthur's blatant study impatiently, barely resisting wriggling his arse in the air in reminder. Arthur smiled and kissed him once more before pushing himself up. "Now, I'm going to fuck you until you sleep a solid twelve hours, but I'll settle for eight."

"So romantic. I might swoon," Merlin said. "But also, it's good to have goals. You may begin."

"Lube?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, please," Merlin said.

Arthur swatted Merlin's arse. Merlin jerked away with a laugh, the sting waking him up. "As in, _where_ is the lube?"

"Oh -- yeah. Yeah, it's --" Merlin stretched out, reaching for the drawer. He fumbled through the contents, his fingers curling around the bottle, but no sooner had he thrown it over his shoulder that he was pushed down.

"Stay like that," Arthur murmured. His hands were solid, his touch soft, and Merlin closed his eyes when he felt them pass over his buttocks, down his thighs, curling near his knees.

And then, abruptly, Arthur pushed Merlin's legs apart.

Merlin laughed. He turned to look over his shoulder, only to be pushed down again. "Don't move," Arthur warned.

"Yes, Sire," Merlin said mockingly, only to freeze when his own words registered. They'd avoided talking about the visions that still haunted them, even if it was only in fragments these days. Merlin hadn't meant to bring them up, and certainly not in this context. He started to apologize when Arthur's hands stilled, and there was a long pause in which Merlin didn't dare move.

"What does it say about me if that turns me on?" Arthur asked, shifting down on the bed.

Merlin exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and said, "That you're a royal prat."

"You can't talk to me like that, you peasant," Arthur said, no real heat in his tone.

"I think you'll find --" Whatever Merlin had been about to say vanished at the sensation of Arthur's tongue trailing down the crack of his arse. Merlin closed his eyes, enduring -- _enjoying_ \-- the attention with growing bonelessness. He did a poor job of biting back a moan.

"Shh," Arthur said. "Aithusa's asleep."

"Soundproofing," Merlin muttered. "Mighty need. We have to --"

"Get on that," Arthur agreed, pushing Merlin's face into the pillow. Merlin kicked at him uselessly, his entire will vanishing as Arthur resumed where he'd left off.

Warm breath. Soft kisses. Wet licks, both at once teasing and exploring, pushed deeper and deeper until Merlin was biting the pillow to keep himself quiet. Yet, however wound up he was, he was drawn into and lost to sensation. He didn't expect the sharp smack on his left arse cheek.

The pillow muffled his shriek of surprise, but it didn't do much against a hissed breath as Arthur slid a lube-slick finger in. 

"Don't fall asleep on me just yet," Arthur murmured, kissing the stinging spot on Merlin's bum.

"Does it invalidate your promise to fuck me until I sleep if I fall asleep before you do?" Merlin asked, spreading his legs wider in invitation.

"Hm," Arthur said, turning his head; Merlin felt the scruff of an unshaven cheek against tender skin. A second finger joined the first before Arthur spoke again. "I could fuck you while you sleep those eight, and still hold up my end of the bargain."

"You said you'd rather I have twelve. Also, I'm not a bargain," Merlin said as Arthur added a third finger, his voice breathy.

"Not at all," Arthur said, moving up alongside Merlin, biting and kissing as he went, his fingers pumping in and out. He slowed for a moment, leaning in; Merlin met him halfway for a kiss that took his breath away. "You're my eternity."

Merlin stared at him. His mouth fell open only to snap shut with a click. The words didn't come, and when they did, he blurted out, "You can't say things like that!"

"It's the truth, love," Arthur said with a soft laugh, short and sweet, a sparkle in his eye, honest emotion in his smile. He pulled his fingers out and rolled onto his back. "Are you going to stop me from saying it again?"

"You're unbelievable," Merlin muttered, crawling on top of Arthur. He straddled Arthur's thighs, biting his lower lip as he dragged back against Arthur and felt the cock against the crack of his arse. "All that because you don't want to do all the work. Don't lie, I know that was your cunning plan all along."

"All that because I love you," Arthur said, running his hands up Merlin's thighs. "And also because if you just lay there like a bloody rug, you'll wake me up in the middle of the night emptying the cupboards, in grouchy strop because we're out of peanut butter again."

"Shut up," Merlin muttered, crouching down. He leaned on his elbows and loomed over Arthur, fighting and failing to keep a stern face as long as Arthur was smiling.

Arthur's lips were warm and welcoming when Merlin kissed him. There was no urgency in the kiss. Only a future with the two of them bound together as they were now, as they must have always been. It was a promise that needed no words.

"I do, too, you know," Merlin whispered.

He shifted, closing his eyes as Arthur's cock dragged down. He reached down and guided Arthur in, sitting back with a moan. 

Merlin almost couldn't stand how Arthur was looking at him. He didn't have to guess at the emotion because he felt them, too. It was his own devotion and adoration twining through the bond they shared, magnifying until it was overwhelming.

Arthur bucked his hips. "Are you just going to sit there?"

"Was thinking about it," Merlin threatened as he leaned down. He hissed at the slow drag of Arthur's cock against his prostate and rolled his hips in invitation. Arthur obliged with an unhurried thrusting that matched the intent of Merlin's kisses.

They stayed wound within each other, slowly fucking, slowly kissing. Merlin trailed his fingers through Arthur's hair and down along his jaw. He shivered when he felt Arthur's hands brush up his back and down again. Merlin could stay like this forever and Arthur didn't seem to have any complaints, either.

But then Merlin felt a tightening in his balls and a familiar _rush_ up his spine. The kisses took on a note of urgency and Arthur's hands on Merlin's hips pushed down in a determined guide.

The pace quickened, though Merlin wasn't sure which of them took the initiative. Merlin bit Arthur's lower lip; Arthur's fingers tightened at Merlin's hips, bound to leave bruises by morning. Arthur batted away Merlin's hand and took care of Merlin's cock.

Merlin came after only a few strokes exactly the way he liked it. Arthur heaved a heady, restrained groan after two more hard thrusts.

Merlin collapsed on top of Arthur. He thought he should slide off, except Arthur wound his arms around him, holding him in place. They breathed heavily, the cool air chilling the sweat on their skin.

Blindly kissing the side of Arthur's head, Merlin muttered, "The come's drying."

"Hm," Arthur replied, kissing Merlin's shoulder. Neither one of them moved.

"We're going to be stuck together if you don't let me go," Merlin managed several minutes later.

Arthur moved, all right, stretching his leg out and thrusting his cock into Merlin at a different angle, making him see stars.

Held tightly, drying come down his thighs, Arthur's cock in him. Everything was designed for discomfort, but Merlin couldn't find it in him to complain. He closed his eyes to the feeling of Arthur's lips dragging along over his temples and to a teary murmur that sounded suspiciously like, _I'm so glad you're home._

**ooOOoo**

Arthur had hardly signed his name on the contract before Morgana pulled it away from him and placed another one in front of him. It took him a minute to realize that it wasn't an actual contract. 

He skimmed through its contents before sitting back in his seat. Morgana was flitting about his desk, picking up random items and putting them back down, and she was doing a really shite job of covering up her nerves. _What the actual fuck_ was nearly said out loud, but since the office door was open and his secretary was in earshot, Arthur settled for, "All right. Please explain."

"You wouldn't consider just signing it?" Morgana asked, wriggling his eyebrows in exaggerated encouragement.

Arthur snorted. Since Morgana wasn't being forthcoming, he turned to the first page of the legal paperwork and started reading.

Slowly.

"Hm," he said, making a note on the legal pad he always kept on his desk, and continued to read.

"Huh," he added a few minutes later, making another note.

He repeated the process three more times, taking nearly twenty minutes to go through the legal language on the first page. Morgana flounced on the chair on the opposite side of Arthur's desk, radiating impatience.

"You're doing that on purpose," Morgana said.

"Absolutely. I'm not sure why it took you this long to figure that out," Arthur said, glancing up briefly. 

He continued to read, this time paying attention. The language was above board. Some of the facts would need to be double-checked. He'd have to do it himself because some of the information was highly sensitive.

If he were to approve these internal papers, which were intended as the base of what would become several official documents to cancel government contracts, there would need to be a complete auditing of Pendragon Consulting's past, present and future contracts. They could be found in breach of trust if some of the smaller contracts were overlooked.

It would be an uncomfortable audit that no one would like. Certain steps would need to be done, first. Government contracts meant that government approval would be required, bureaucrats would get their fingers where they didn't belong, and…

 _Ugh_.

Arthur wasn't entirely certain that Morgana realized the full extent of what she was asking with these documents. If he signed off on them, if he approved instigating a complete cancellation of all weapon manufacturing contracts, it was asking for a world of trouble that no one wanted, and Arthur definitely did not want outsiders pawing through their archives and their records. 

The company had never done anything illegal. That wasn't the problem. It was that external auditors wouldn't understand what they were looking at. Arthur dreaded what would happen if a reedy accountant with tiny eyes and a terrible comb-over put two and two together and realized that all of Nimueh's pseudonyms were, in fact, Nimueh herself.

One slip. One wrong word spoken to someone outside of the company, and it wouldn't matter that Nimueh had taken advantage of Pendragon Consulting's resources or that she had, at the core, robbed the company of intellectual property. 

Arthur would understand that reaction. It was one that he'd had himself. But investigations by MI-5 had ended with their inability to find any actual link between Nimueh and Uther. Uther had admitted to stockpiling artefacts and not-quite stealing from the government, but beyond that? Custom requests usually passed by the President's desk, and it wasn't unusual for Uther to have followed up on special requests. Uther had recognized some of those custom requests as attempts to modernize ancient artefacts but had also seen that the designs were corrupted, erroneous, or altered. He hadn't known who was behind them, but it had galvanized his own interest in ensuring everyone's safety and investing into research to prevent magical dominance.

As far as Olaf and MI-5 were concerned, Uther was cleared of involvement with the NWO. Public perceptions about Uther Pendragon and the company never changed because the findings and the suspicions had never come to light. They probably never would.

The audit would change that, and revealing this bit of information would help absolutely no one.

Arthur came to a clause in the paperwork that the board of directors definitely wouldn't like, and it all slotted into place, finally. He understood what Morgana was trying to do. Or not do. With a sigh, Arthur said, "I see."

"You'll sign, then?"

Arthur leaned back in his seat. He tossed his pen onto the desk where it rolled onto the legal pad. "I want your reasoning."

"Arthur --"

"Morgana," Arthur said firmly. "It'll stay between us. I don't care what's driving you to do this. If you've heard something. If you're having a change of heart. If you Saw --"

Morgana flinched. Arthur trailed off, waiting to see if Morgana would fill the silence. When she didn't, he sighed heavily and leaned forward, arms crossed over his desk.

"I know you've been training with other Seers among the Druids. I know they've been teaching you how dangerous it is to share the visions you see with other people who won't understand them," Arthur said. It was hypocritical of Morgana to hold back on him _now_ , after she had been so helpful during the war, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Merlin had tried to explain the basics, but it was Gaius who had patiently laid out the extent to which the Druids believed in balance, and how far they would go to maintain it. Seers walked that fine edge along the seesaw, and it was the most important aspect of Morgana's training to learn how to use her magic to maintain it. Arthur couldn't deny that he was struggling to understand Druidic tenets, but he was trying to respect her decision.

"I'm not going to make you tell me what you Saw, Morgana. I know you can't tell me right now, if you ever can. So how about this. I'll ask you a question, and if you can, you'll tell me if it has anything to do with… with this," Arthur said, tapping at the paperwork.

Morgana lowered her gaze. Whatever she was thinking, her expression changed from guilt to determined. "Ask."

Arthur stared at her for a long time, reaching for the words. "Does this have anything to do with those other plans you saw at the warehouse where they were keeping you and Gwen?"

Morgana's head snapped up. Her mouth fell open. Her eyes were round.

That was answer enough for Arthur.

There were too many loose threads to everything. So many plots that they'd uncovered during their original mission. So many more that they didn't know about that were still ongoing or were about to be created. If he had to take a guess about the driving force behind the document Morgana had tried to slip past him, he had an even chance of having been correct.

Those blueprints Gwen and Morgana had seen, that no one could identify, that they couldn't _find_ \-- they spoke of a weapon that was far greater than the prototype Uther had built.

Morgana's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you don't have any magic?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. He was getting that a lot these days.

"Morgana," Arthur said. He paused, trying to think of what to say. He glanced down at the papers and scratched his jaw. "Cancelling our military contracts won't stop what you Saw from happening --"

"You can't know that," Morgana said. A furious edge coloured her expression. "For all you know, they're the ones who will be behind --"

"Stop," Arthur said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. There were so many different things that he could say, a hundred different things to lay out for Morgana to change her mind, but he couldn't find the energy. He picked up his pen, fiddled with it, and put it down.

He'd made mistakes during the war. He'd made decisions based on little information and they'd turned out well enough, given the circumstances. Other times, he had had too much data and couldn't see through the mire -- never mind the way through -- and good men had died.

He was tired. So tired.

He couldn't stop imagining possibilities. Planning for a future that might never exist. Creating contingency plans that were either unnecessary or not followed by those responsible for them. And now, with this paperwork on his desk ordering the immediate dissolution of existing contracts with multiple agencies and government bodies, Arthur could only see…

Morgana.

Morgana stared at him with unblinking eyes -- with all-Seeing eyes. Arthur didn't know what she saw. He didn't know if she was judging him now for actions that he wouldn't take for years to come. He couldn't help but to judge her in turn, because the edicts that prevented Druids from telling others about their visions also prevented them from acting on them, and yet, here she was, tendering him some paperwork that was based on a fleeting glimpse of a future that was based on blueprints she'd seen while imprisoned.

Arthur scratched his jaw, absentmindedly noticing that he'd missed a spot shaving and debating whether to let his beard grow again. Merlin didn't seem to mind --

Merlin.

Arthur drummed his fingers on the desk, pretending to go over the document again. The words blurred, which came as no surprise. 

Whenever Morgana's name was mentioned, Merlin went silent. His smile faded a little, the twinkle in his eyes dimmed. Arthur didn't have to think hard to remember when that started -- roughly seven months ago, when Merlin was on mission. He'd asked to talk to Morgana, the two had spoken, the assignment had gone wrong, and Merlin had nearly died.

Arthur had never asked -- had forgotten to ask -- but the niggling memory reminded him that even Druids gifted with the Sight had one mandate above all, and that was to counsel others in times of need.

Morgana hadn't done a whole lot of counselling lately. She'd done a lot of ordering. There were changes to multiple divisions that Arthur didn't recognize, new board members whose names Arthur still didn't know. 

Arthur looked up at Morgana, dread sinking in his belly with the brute force of a sledgehammer breaking up the ground.

Uther had signed the company to Arthur when he stepped down to take a position with MI-5 under Olaf, researching magical artefacts. In turn, Arthur had authorized Morgana to direct the company while he continued to serve. Arthur had been appointed president, while Morgana retained her title as Vice President, taking on additional responsibilities. Uther had insisted that Arthur be very careful how many responsibilities he passed on to Morgana.

Arthur wondered if Uther hadn't ever given Morgana more power in the company because he had known something about Morgana that Arthur had never seen, or if he had been his usual misogynistic, patronizing self.

Either way, Morgana couldn't have been happy about the decision -- Uther's, in the beginning, or Arthur's, now. She'd never said anything. When Arthur offered to give her more power on a temporary basis, Morgana had smiled -- thinly, but it was a smile -- and reassured him that it wasn't necessary. That she could do what she needed to do with what she had.

Except for this, Arthur realized, moving the document from his desk. She never would have had the authority to push this through.

 _What are you up to?_ He wanted to ask.

Instead, he said nothing. He watched Morgana for a long time before standing up, ignoring the confused expression slowly filtering across her face.

"I don't…" Arthur trailed off. He shook his head and walked around the desk, pausing next to Morgana's chair. "Goodnight, Morgana."

"Arthur?"

He shut the door to his office behind him.

People called his name. They greeted him as he walked by. Arthur must have responded appropriately because they smiled at him. The ride down on the lift was quiet and long, stopping on every other floor until he was alone for the last stop to the parking garage. He somehow found himself in his car, merging into traffic, driving the last block toward his flat, down the ramp to the subbasement level.

He parked, walked to the lift, walked inside. He put the key to the penthouse in the lock and turned. He stepped out when the doors slid open and walked down the corridor, punching in the code when he couldn't remember which key would fit in the lock.

"What do you mean, _where's Arthur_?" Merlin asked angrily, clearly struggling to keep his voice down. "He's at work. He -- _what?_ "

Arthur toed his shoes off. He yanked at his tie to loosen it.

"What did you do, Morgana?" Merlin asked, his voice cold.

Arthur paused as he took off his overcoat, wondering at the tone in Merlin's voice. He'd always been friendly with her. He'd always _tried_. But he spoke to her as if they were strangers, as if she was the enemy, as if she…

Why was Merlin so abrupt with her now?

Arthur stopped that line of thought before it got too far, but he knew. He _worried_.

He put his overcoat on the hook by the door.

"I don't get you," Merlin said, his voice neutral and flat. "You wouldn't help me, you nearly got me killed, you avoid me when I try to talk to you about it, and all of a sudden, you expect me to --"

Arthur ran his hands through his hair, but when he lowered his arm, he realized his fingers were trembling.

"There you go," Merlin said, his tone nasty. "I was wondering where that was hiding. Are you going to insult my intelligence next? My parenting skills? My choice in clothes?"

There was an echo of sound in Arthur's head, slowly dissipating the longer he stayed where he was, a hand on the wall to keep his balance. The noise faded and was replaced by hypersensitivity -- footsteps on the carpet in the sunken living room, the click of the receiver as the phone was slammed down, the telly playing some sort of Disney movie that Arthur didn't immediately recognize.

"I don't -- I don't believe you," Merlin snapped. "No, you know what? I'm not interested. You can pretend all you like. I love you, Morgana. You're my friend. But the answer is no."

Arthur looked up at a shift of light at the other end of the hallway and saw Aithusa standing there, wearing her pyjamas and a pink tutu. Her hair was wet from a recent bath and brushed straight, and she had a balloon crown on her head. 

"What do you mean, _I'm_ a hypocrite? I don't even --" Merlin stifled a shout that Arthur heard anyway, and as much as he wanted to emerge into the living room to see what was going on, he was rooted to the spot. Merlin's volume increased, and although he wasn't shouting, he was coming awfully close. "If you want to talk about hypocrites, how about we start with _you?_ "

Aithusa tilted her head in consideration before walking over. She held up her arms insistently, and Arthur picked her up, grunting when she hugged his throat a little too tightly. She forgot she was a dragon, sometimes.

"When were you going to tell anyone that you stopped studying with the Druids? That you only used them long enough to get what you needed to control your power? How about you never planned to swear the oaths to obey the basic tenets of using your Sight?"

Arthur's head snapped up with alarm. He hadn't known that. He wondered when Merlin had found out. 

"I've got _plenty_ of examples," Merlin snarled. "Getting involved when you shouldn't and nearly getting Owain's team killed. Lying to Leon when you warned him not to take the east or north ingress route on their mission in Germany, promising him that you'd tell Perceval, too. Did you ever talk to Perceval? Did you? No, you didn't, and don't give me that bollocks that you couldn't raise him on the radio --"

Aithusa loosened her grasp around Arthur's neck and put her hands on his cheeks. She turned his head until he looked at her.

"There's _reasons_ why the Druids swear those oaths. Why they train the way they do. Why they have a strict rule of not getting involved and why they teach Seers how to act as impartial counsellors. You're abusing your power, Morgana --"

Aithusa leaned in, bowing her head. Her balloon crown was soft against Arthur's forehead. 

" _Don't you bloody hang up on me, you --_ "

The lights in the living room flared brightly and blindingly before bursting, showering glass fragments everywhere. Arthur immediately covered Aithusa's head, but they were safe; the unlit overhead light in the front entrance remained intact.

"Goddamn it," Merlin snarled.

Arthur moved into the living room slowly, emerging in time to catch a glimpse of Merlin darting toward  
the kitchen. A chair toppled over, an apple bounced off the counter's edge, and a distracted Merlin emerged from behind the island, patting his pockets and searching for -- for something. Arthur didn't know what.

"Aithusa -- Aithusa, where did you…" Merlin stuttered to a stop. He had one arm in his coat, held Aithusa's plushy red coat in the other, and keys dangled from his fingers.

Merlin immediately deflated, exhaling heavily with an expression of relief. His shoulders slumped, he closed his eyes, and once he had settled down, he turned to drop the coats in his hand onto the floor, keys on top of them. He wrapped his arms around Arthur and Aithusa, his head resting on Arthur's shoulder.

"You're safe," Merlin said, as if it was a very real possibility that Arthur wouldn't have been.

"I left," Arthur said. He started to explain, but found that he couldn't. He stayed where he was, leaning against Merlin and held in place by Aithusa, who was hugging them both, now. He didn't try to move until the ache in his arm from that gunshot six months ago went from _dull and tolerable_ to _bright bonfire burning_. He let go of Merlin, shifted Aithusa to his other side, and asked, "What's for dinner?"

"Spag bowl!" Aithusa said with a cheer, throwing her fists up in the air in victory. The movement was so abrupt that she fell backward before Arthur could catch her, but Merlin caught her easily, pulling her out of Arthur's grasp and setting her down.

"That's only if a certain little miss changes out of her play clothes and into something she doesn't mind getting dirty," Merlin said with a small frown. "Also, what did I say about your toys?"

"To put them away before dinner," Aithusa said with an eyeroll. She looked around as if evaluating how much she could do with minimum effort, and pointed at the pile of coats and keys. "That's not my mess."

Arthur snorted. Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am aware."

Aithusa shrugged and said, "Okay." She skipped to the living room, and wasn't there more than ten seconds before something tumbled over and crashed, winning a cry of dismay and a pointed, "My tower!"

Merlin sighed heavily, rubbed his temples as if he had a headache, and did his best to hide a smile, but Arthur reached out and ran his thumb over Merlin's bottom lip. Merlin caught Arthur's hand, pressed a kiss in the palm, and asked, "Are you all right?"

Arthur considered. The tightness in his chest that had appeared when he realized what that document had been and the implications behind it, the underlying horror that it was _Morgana_ who had initiated it, the complete blindsiding and acute awareness that he hadn't had a plan to compensate? That tightness had faded, but wasn't entirely gone; it throbbed under the skin, insistent for attention.

Instead of answering Merlin, he asked, "Morgana nearly got you killed. Seven months ago. What did she do?"

Merlin's mouth pressed in a thin line and he was _distant_ , for a second, as if reliving an old memory. The silence was enough to confirm what Arthur had heard, but it didn't give him any information about what she had done.

When Merlin didn't answer, Arthur asked, "Why didn't you tell me how bad it was? That Morgana…"

Merlin glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing when Aithusa started playing with her toys again instead of putting them away. Arthur put a hand on his arm to stop him. It wasn't close enough to dinnertime yet for Aithusa to clean up.

"I thought it was a one-off," Merlin finally said. 

"It wasn't," Arthur said.

"No," Merlin shook his head. "It wasn't. I didn't notice at first, but I spoke with the others whenever our assignments put us in the same grid on the map. Owain… Pellinor… Lucan. If you wonder why Perce and Gwaine are on the outs…?"

He shrugged.

"Every time I tried to tell you, she was on E-channel. Like she was listening in. The other times, well." Merlin met Arthur's eyes and offered him a faint smile. "We had other things on our mind."

"Do the others --" Arthur trailed off at Merlin's nod. He grimaced inwardly and asked the question he didn't really want to ask. "Leon?"

Merlin glanced away, then. "Why do you think he's not talking to Kay?"

"Je-- fuc-- god-- boll--" Arthur slapped a hand over his own mouth and closed his eyes. He considered stepping outside to swear, but Aithusa had ears like a bloody bat. He'd need to be on the other side of the planet if he wanted to avoid the swear jar. He jingled the change in his pocket, decided he had enough for one, solid swear, and hissed, "And no one thought to fucking tell me?"

"Bad word!" Aithusa announced.

"I have the pound right here," Arthur said. All his energy and anger went out of him, and he met Merlin's fond smile with a resigned shrug. 

Aithusa came running, claimed her hoard, and ran into the kitchen where the half-full pickle jar was on display. There was a distant _clink_ when she deposited it.

"We should get her a bank account," Arthur said.

"I tried. She was interested until she found out that she wouldn't get to keep the money the same way that she got it. It appears to be a thing. Every dragon hoards something. You should see Nid's button collection," Merlin said.

"Buttons? Nid?"

"Buttons," Merlin said with a shrug.

"Maybe she'll grow out of it and want to save buttons instead," Arthur said, already making plans to set up an account for Aithusa anyway. He should've done it a long time ago, if for no other reason than to ensure that she was provided for in case something happened to them. "Otherwise this is going to get expensive."

"She'll grow up to be a teenage girl," Merlin pointed out. "It's always going to get expensive."

Arthur grunted, not looking forward to it, though for completely different reasons. Aithusa was an adorable little girl. When she grew old enough to attract a young boy's eye, well. There wouldn't be just one boy. Arthur was likely going to need to use both his sword and his entire team to fend them off. 

"No one told you because… Well." Merlin tilted his head in apology. "Leon."

If they had tried to tell Leon and Leon's reaction had been poor, it shouldn't be a surprise to Arthur that the team was avoiding broaching the subject with him, figuring that blood was even thicker than a bond of marriage. Arthur could understand, because if someone had told him that Merlin was putting the team in danger, he would have scoffed, berated them, and threatened to put them on suspension.

He hoped he would be a better man than that, and that he would have listened to his men instead of being instinctively protective, but love could blind the most practical person, and…

Arthur could imagine it. Leon had been in love with Morgana since she was a teenager. He was well aware of her faults and accepted them all with the blind loyalty of a man who had given his heart away and never expected it to be returned. Arthur, on the other hand, loved his sister despite those flaws, and hated it when they grew out of proportion and overwhelmed her.

This time, though, Arthur didn't think this was merely a flaw.

Merlin's hand was warm on Arthur's chest, fingers lightly rubbing the protective pendant through the fabric of his shirt. "Why don't you go change?"

"I should. Spag bowl, yeah?"

"I'll make meatballs," Merlin said.

They didn't speak of it again until much later, after the washing had been done, three stories had been read, and a tired little girl finally went to bed. Arthur stretched out on the sofa, plopping his feet into Merlin's lap, and leaned back on the armrest, staring at the speckled ceiling for a few blank minutes before closing his eyes.

Merlin rubbed Arthur's foot one-handed, changing the channels on the telly until he found something mindless to watch. Arthur listened to zombies roaming the countryside and challenging an otherwise non-threatening farmhouse as Merlin massaged his toes and moved on to knead a knuckle into a knot in the arch of his foot. Twitching and resisting the urge to pull his foot away, Arthur settled among the pillows and tried to relax.

"By the way, you should trim your toenails," Merlin said.

"They're fine," Arthur grumbled.

"Oh, that's all right then. I'll grow mine out, too, and we'll see how you like it when you kick me in your sleep," Merlin said.

"I don't kick in my sleep."

"You kick in your sleep," Merlin said.

Arthur pulled his feet away, digging his heels into Merlin's thigh before sitting up. "You _talk_ in your sleep."

Merlin snorted. "That's not a surprise to anyone."

"Ugh," Arthur said, because he had to agree. His comeback was as weak as they'd come, and he couldn't think of better. He graciously conceded the point to Merlin, sat up straighter, and stared at the telly for several minutes, thinking that it was in poor taste to be watching a zombie movie when the entire world endured occasional flare-ups as young sorcerers dabbled in necromancy. He was about to ask that they change the channel, but what came out instead was, "I don't know what to do."

"I'm not sure there's anything we can do," Merlin said, eyes glued to the telly. The zombie was happily munching on someone's skull, but the special effects were so bad it had the look of someone sucking at someone's head, leaving a hickey on the forehead. 

Arthur picked up the remote and lowered the volume, because the squelching suck, bone breaking, and general slurping noises of gory undead cannibalism might wake up Aithusa.

"Sorry, I like this part," Merlin said, shifting so that he was facing Arthur.

"I can't imagine why," Arthur said, because Merlin had been up close and personal with a young necromancer's undead shamble two weeks before his tour was over. The sorcerer hadn't even been Merlin's assignment. Merlin had been walking downtown, minding his own business while on his way to meet a contact in order to handle the actual business he was in the country for, when the sorcerer appeared in the mouth of an alley, challenging a different sorcerer.

Listening to Merlin tell the story, it had been very much a _at high noon_ Western duel, complete with accusations of wrongdoing and a blood feud gone wrong. Merlin hadn't wanted to get involved, but he'd had no choice when the challenger commanded his private, mindless army out of the alley to attack the other sorcerer, and the zombies had gone out of control to attack everyone else instead.

It was funny to listen to in retrospect, but not so much at the time, watching helplessly from satellite cameras and hijacked street CCTV.

"Because I know those ones on the telly aren't real," Merlin said seriously. He tilted his head and sighed. "Look. Morgana… Morgana choose to do this. I don't know if she's being influenced, if something is driving her, or if she thinks she's alone and has to do this, whatever _this_ is, by herself. When the Druids took her in, they explained to her they would help her gain control, but to do so she would have to study with them. She would have to become one of them."

"I remember," Arthur said, sinking back in the sofa. He pulled one of the pillows onto his lap. "Ten years of study before they can release her in the wild or something like that."

"Twelve, and normally they start training young," Merlin said. He squirmed closer until he was against Arthur, and his voice softened. "She's pretty set in her own mind. It couldn't have been easy for her to have to follow their rules. When she left them, it was probably best all around --"

"You're defending her?" Arthur asked.

A troubled expression crossed Merlin's face. He shook his head. "No."

"What does Mordred think?" Arthur asked. 

Since Mordred had always technically been a civilian, working under no one's auspices but the team's own, he'd been offered an out when the rest of Excalibur re-upped. Mordred hadn't wanted to leave them, but he hadn't been interested in continuing to fight a war he'd fought nearly his entire life. He had helped Kathy establish schooling for young sorcerers, and when he wasn't dealing with a mountain of paperwork with the new curriculum, he was continuing his training as a Druid under Cennydd.

"He doesn't know Morgana that well. He hasn't said much about it, but…" Merlin sighed softly. "He worries."

Arthur said nothing for the longest time. On the telly, a woman was shouting a warning, brandishing a shotgun. The zombies lurched toward her in slow motion, never seeming to catch up to her until they were suddenly within arm's reach, and she resolutely shot one in the head and ran away.

The sick feeling in his stomach was the realization that it was entirely possible he was the zombie that the woman had just blown away.

"I worry, too."

**ooOOoo**

Merlin had never been to The Cross before.

He'd heard about it. There wasn't a man in the British Army who hadn't hoped to get invited to the famed Cross Tavern. The pub was tucked in a wedge of property that demarcated the posh part of town and the blue-collar class -- there were a lot of places like that all over London, but it was more obvious here. It was hard to tell if the pub catered to men in wingtips and tuxedos and women in classy, shimmery evening gowns, or if it was stuffed full of footie enthusiasts just coming off their shifts, but it didn't matter so long as the tourist rabble _stayed the fuck away_.

The Cross wasn't a fancy martini bar with bottle service and exclusive gentlemen privileges. There were no tellys to cater to whoever fancied a pint, either. 

There was no dress code, but it was an exclusive club all the same. When Merlin trotted down the stairs and ducked under the stone arch, he was stopped at the door.

The bouncer was wider at the shoulders than even Perceval but not much taller than Kay. He was a solid brick of muscle in a black turtleneck over pressed trousers, a liberal smear of gunmetal grey in close-cropped black hair trimmed military-style. The cold didn't seem to affect him, but that probably had something to do with the glowing-red space heater tucked behind the door and the awning that kept him sheltered from the rain.

Merlin tugged at his collar and immediately regretted it when a rivulet of icy-cold water dribbled down his neck.

"Name?" the bouncer asked.

"Merlin," Merlin said. He bounced on his feet, trying to stay warm. He wished he hadn't forgotten his scarf, or had at least thought to pull on the jumper that Arthur had given him that morning. He also wished that he hadn't forgotten what day it was, or the time. If it wasn't for the reminder that someone -- Merlin suspected Arthur -- had put on his mobile, Merlin would still be in his workshop, bowed over a new class of UAVs.

The bouncer crossed his massive arms over an equally massive chest. Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm late enough without you pulling my chain. I'm on the list. Just check the list."

The bouncer didn't move.

"This is The Cross, yeah? I'm at the right place?" Merlin went up the stairs, scanning for the sign, and trotted back down. "Yeah, this is the place. Look, mate --"

The bouncer dragged his stool in front of the door -- ostensibly to keep Merlin from getting through -- and sat down.

Merlin stamped down a flare of anger and fished out his mobile.

 _I'm really sorry_ , he texted Arthur. _Lost track of time. But I'm here now. Bouncer won't let me in._

There was no answer. Merlin didn't know if Arthur had shut off his phone or if he was otherwise occupied. _Occupied_ and _preoccupied_ were the same thing for Arthur these days while he slowly regained control of Pendragon Consulting. Curtailing Morgana's access without being obvious about it had to be a challenge and half by itself, and it didn't help that he spent a great deal of time avoiding the Queen's staff and refusing to commit to setting a date for the knighthood, even though the preparations were proceeding without him. Since official word had gotten out, Arthur's secretary was inundated with requests for meetings and interviews.

Still, Arthur couldn't be so pissed at Merlin's inability to tell time like a normal person that he would turn off his phone. As far as Merlin knew, Arthur had never turned his mobile off since receiving it in the first place.

Also, Merlin wasn't _that_ late.

He considered texting Gwaine, but Gwaine was probably drunk already. Perceval might help, but if Gwaine was drunk, Perceval would be keeping him out of trouble even though they were still in the off-again stage of their roller-coaster relationship. If Merlin texted Will, Will would mock him mercilessly and be absolutely no help at all.

Merlin was trying to decide who to text when someone came up behind him, clamping a hand on his shoulder. Before he could turn around to see who it was, Lucan turned him around and flicked the last of his cigarette into the corner, where someone had left a ratty and overflowing stand-up ashtray. 

"You're late," Lucan said.

"You don't smoke," Merlin said. "Rough day?"

"One of those, yeah," Lucan said, shrugging. "You coming in?"

"I'm trying, but the bloke's like a Sphinx," Merlin said, waving at the bouncer. 

Lucan snorted. He shrugged half-heartedly before slipping past Merlin like the snake he could be, sometimes. Lucan traded a nod with the bouncer and moved around him. The bouncer didn't stop Lucan; if anything, he leaned forward to get out of Lucan's way.

Merlin stared. The bouncer stared back. "You let him in," Merlin accused.

The bouncer's stony expression broke a little, and his mouth curled up into a smirk.

"That's just rude," Merlin said. His mobile buzzed; he pulled it out and glanced at it.

It was a message from Lucan: _Mayb now youll cm out w us more often._

Merlin rolled his eyes and blew out his breath. Lucan must think he was really funny. The team hadn't gotten together as a group once since they completed their tours. They'd all needed the time to sort themselves out and to see their families.

"Fine," Merlin said, because he was irritated. He might have worked late, but that was only because he'd had to spend hours on the phone trying to find someone willing to watch Aithusa for the night. He didn't know why Arthur had left it to him to do -- Arthur normally had everything well planned out, despite himself -- but it had taken a good chunk out of his day until he got in touch with Kathy, finally, and asked her babysit. Bran was staying with her, too, so Aithusa would be in good company.

The bouncer wasn't budging. He checked his watch pointedly.

Merlin rolled his eyes. He sent another text to Arthur. _I'm too tired for this shite. I'm going home._

He went up the stairs, pulling the collar of his jacket up and wishing he hadn't left the umbrella in his office. He was contemplating blatant abuse of his magic to dry himself when the sky choose that moment to come down like someone throwing the bathwater out the window, soaking him before he could even summon enough magic to shield him.

"Fuck you, too," Merlin said to the sky, earning himself a strange look from a passer-by. Merlin turned down the pavement, heading for the nearest train stop.

"Merls, wait!" Will shouted, his voice carrying over the rumble of a passing lorry. Merlin slowed down, sheltering under the awning of a local business, and wiped the water pouring down his brow. Will caught up, shaking himself like a wet dog, and huddled closer to Merlin for warmth. Will was in shirt sleeves and a tie, clearly having left his jacket in the pub. 

What caught Merlin's eye was the mobile in Will's hand. He pointed and said, "That's Arthur's."

Will glanced down, his expression blank when he met Merlin's eyes. "No, it's not."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Will --"

"Okay, fine, we took it off of him, all right? He wasn't cooperating," Will said. Merlin made a motion to hand it over, and Will grudgingly slapped it into his palm. 

"Not cooperating? What do you --"

"This is your fault, you know," Will said, ignoring Merlin's question. "You're never this late to anything, even when bloody bombs are going off around your ears. We told the bouncer to keep all the punters out, I suppose he thought you were one of them because _you're late_. Next thing we know, Arthur nearly warns you off, we get the phone off of him, Lucan's back from his smoke and tells us you're standing outside and not coming in --"

Will made a rude gesture toward the phone.

"Then you say you're leaving, and what are we supposed to do?"

Merlin stared at him in confusion, wondering what Will was on about. He waited to see if Will would elaborate, but Will only rubbed the rain out of his hair and looked at him expectantly.

Merlin opened his mouth, only to close it, because he honestly had no idea. "Did you hit your head again? You know what Mum said. That last hit you took was pretty bad, and you're not supposed to drink for another couple of weeks."

"Oh, for Chrissake, I get enough harping from Kay without your chiming in." Will looked pained. "Why don't you just come back to the pub with me?"

"What's going on, Will? You took Arthur's mobile --"

"We couldn't have him warning you off, could we?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Merlin exclaimed, spreading his arms. "Warning me off from what? What's going on?"

Will stared at him. Merlin stared back. Will groaned, staring up at the awning, and sighed in exasperation. "Why can't you two just go along with it?"

"Don't make me hit you," Merlin warned.

"Your bloody stag-do!" Will snapped. "Do you really think we'd all come back together because we miss each other's ugly mugs? Perce and Gwaine are in the same building at the same time, and didn't we think it would take a bloody miracle to get them closer? They wouldn't have done it for any other reason than you two thick tossers, though I could've done it without their toilet stall reunion when I'm trying to piss!"

"What?" Merlin blinked, shaking his head. He focused on the only thing that made sense. "Perce and Gwaine made up?"

Will pressed his fingertips on his eyes, his mouth dropping. He swatted at Merlin. "That's what you got from all that?"

"Who won the pool?" Merlin asked.

"Absolutely bloody no-one," Will said angrily, as if he had had a personal stake in it. "I'm pretty sure they held out this long because they want the dosh for their new flat, because they've been living together ever since they got back, and they didn't tell anyone --"

"They're what?"

"Oh, _for fuck's sake_ , just come with me, pretend to be surprised, don't be alarmed when you see Arthur," Will said, grabbing Merlin's free hand. 

Merlin considered pulling away, but followed along instead, glad that the downpour from a few minutes earlier had eased and that the rain was nothing more but an annoying drizzle. Still, Will's shirt was soaked through by the time they descended the steps to The Cross to face up with the beefy bouncer again. 

"He's the bloody guest of honour," Will snarled at the bouncer when the bouncer looked as if he were going to stop Merlin from coming in. "We showed you his photo, you dumb --"

Merlin pushed Will past the bouncer before one of them threw a punch. Most likely, it would start with a belligerent Will -- he really couldn't afford to take another hit, not with his concussion -- and end with a smug bouncer cracking his knuckles in satisfaction. Merlin didn't want to have to spend the night in B&E keeping an eye on Will.

Out of the cold damp and into the humid heat of the bar, it took a minute to adjust to the change in lighting. The entranceway of The Cross was dark, the illumination not helped at all by the dark wood paneling. The carpet gave way to ceramic tile flooring and a big, open room with multiple tables and booths in a crescent circle around the bar; the walls were covered with framed photographs of military teams, black and white and in full colour and every shade of faded in-between.

Nearly every table was covered with glasses -- some full, others well on their way to being empty. Plates of appetizers were located in strategic spots to lure more customers to the bar, though at the moment, everyone in the room was facing the entrance, as if they'd been waiting for Will to return with Merlin. The team mostly looked sheepish and embarrassed, while others, like Lucan, didn't make eye contact, or went ahead and downed the rest of their drinks.

Completely surrounded by the members of team Excalibur was Arthur, though he was sitting in a round bar chair, trussed up like a pig offered up for slaughter. He glowered unhappily, his mouth turned down at the corners, though Merlin was willing to pay money that it was because the rope they'd used to tie him up was filthy and was wrinkling his suit.

"Surprise," Will announced sarcastically, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his tone. He shot a glare around the room. "I don't know why you lot thought it would be a good idea to surprise them. I warned you. He has a sixth sense for these things. Every bloody surprise party _ever_ , he's found a way to ruin it, somehow."

"Didn't stop you from pitching in, did it?" Gwaine said, raising his glass as if in toast.

"More to watch you crash and burn when it fails miserably," Will said, leaving Merlin's side to wander over to the bar. He sat on a stool, swivelled around, and swept his arm out. "I got him here. Can we get the party started?"

"Run," Arthur deadpanned.

Merlin laughed.

"No, really. Run," Arthur said, but it was too late. Somehow, Bohrs snuck up behind Merlin, twisted his arms behind his back, and frog-marched him to the chair Pellinor planted right in front of Arthur. 

"Sorry," Mordred said, holding up a string of rope before crouching between Bohrs and Merlin to fasten Merlin to the chair. As soon as the rope touched Merlin's skin, he felt the tingle of magic trying to ensnare and subdue his own, a restraining ward woven into the fibres. Someone must have taken it from the army's stores with every intention of using it on Merlin for specifically this purpose.

Mordred checked his work and nodded, satisfied, before retreating. Now that Merlin had had the time to really look around, he realized that there was more than just the team present. Cennydd was at a table in the corner, grinning. Olaf was on the other side of the room looking as if he'd only come because he hadn't been invited in the first place. Several familiar faces from Merlin's pre-Excalibur enlistment years were there as well, smirking at the situation Merlin had found himself in. Mickey O'Reilly was there, too, but, fortunately, there was no camera in sight, catching footage no one wanted in public.

Merlin tugged at the rope, but he was pretty firmly held in place. The magic looping around him was like a snug blanket that he couldn't possibly extricate himself from, because every time he pushed one of the magical weaves out of the way, another one would fall in its place. It was the ephemeral version of an endless puzzle, and just as frustrating. 

He should know; he designed it that way.

Arthur twisted his hand in the air as if to mock him, because, _of course_ , it wouldn't be easy to get out of knots that were tied by trained soldiers. Especially if those soldiers were members of team Excalibur.

Merlin rolled his eyes. He raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "Your idea?"

Arthur scoffed. "It's in poor taste to throw our own stag-do."

"It's a bit late for one, isn't it?" Merlin asked.

"You'd think so," Gwaine said, sauntering over. He raised his glass, realized that it was empty, and took a fresh mug out of Bedivere's hand just as Bedivere was about to sip it. Gwaine raised his new acquisition up in toast. "But a certain someone, who shall remain nameless -- it's me, in case you were wondering -- recently discovered news of particular importance to everyone in this room."

He paused with dramatic license. Everyone waited with baited breath except for Percival, who sighed the sigh of a long-suffering man and leaned against the bar, his arms crossed over his chest.

Knowing that they weren't going to get anywhere unless someone rose to the bait, Merlin asked in dry monotone, "And what did you find out, Gwaine?"

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know," Gwaine said, exasperated. "I can't believe you'd keep a secret like this from me. I thought we were best mates!"

"Oi! I'm the best mate, I don't care what you say," Will said.

"The best mate is whoever unties me right now," Merlin said seriously. 

Gwaine and Will exchanged looks. There was a wriggle of eyebrows that might have been a complete conversation, but they came to some sort of agreement, because they both shrugged.

"That's not enough incentive," Gwaine said.

Will claimed a fresh pitcher of beer and filled up his glass. He pointed awkwardly toward Gwaine in the process and said, "What he said."

Arthur shrugged the best he was able given that he was more tightly wound up in rope. "I already tried that."

"Threats?"

"Said they'd take their chances."

"Bribery?"

Arthur tilted his head to gesture toward someone in the crowd. "Mickey's all for it, but it's not like he can get past the others."

"Did he try?" Merlin asked, wriggling subtly in his seat to see how much give there was. There wasn't much, but it was enough. Mordred might have trained with them in Camelot, but Merlin was pretty sure that no one took the time to teach Mordred how to properly subdue a target. The rope slipped down Merlin's wrist a little.

"If Julia were here, I'd probably have better luck," Mickey said, apologetic.

"Where is Julia, anyway?" Merlin asked. 

Much to his surprise, Mickey had turned out to be a decent bloke who fit right in among the group. It helped a great deal that while the team was split up and strewn all over the world on missions, Mickey was right at home reporting on what he could of their work and casting them in a honest light. He didn't idolize them or put them on a pedestal -- not anymore, anyway -- and neither did he cast them into the mould of cold-blooded killers like one reporter in particular that Merlin could think of.

Merlin didn't know Mickey as well as most of the others, but he knew that Arthur and Mickey had gone out for beers on more than one occasion. Gwaine and Mickey regularly played darts in pubs all over the city -- it was something to do with Gwaine having served with Mickey's brother, years and years ago. Mickey and Julia went out on what was termed not-dates with Gareth and Lamorak, who were as close as ever and were in some sort of undefined relationship that everyone accepted, even if they didn't understand it entirely.

Still, it was disappointing that Mickey could tolerate being around the team as much as he was, and not want to put his life on the line to free one of them. 

"She's coming later," Mickey said, grinning. "Went with the girls; they're going shopping with your little one."

Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances.

"They're what?" Arthur asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"Can't I just get to my announcement?" Gwaine asked plaintively, recognizing that he'd lost his momentum.

"No," Lance said, clapping a hand on Gwaine's shoulder.

"But doesn't anyone care the lengths I went to in order to uncover Arthur's plans?" Gwaine asked.

"Does it involve some poor star-struck idiot dumb enough to be charmed by the way you flip your hair?" Will asked, mocking the head-toss and exaggerated hip-thrust.

A pained look crossed over Kay's expression and he shook his head. "Really, Will?"

"What?"

"It was a mimbo, thank you very much, and he was _inspired_ to help me for no other reason that he was appreciative of the service I've given our country," Gwaine said.

"Right," Owain said with a snort. Perceval hid his amusement behind his mug of beer, but the way he stared fondly at Gwaine hinted that whatever it was, it definitely wasn't what everyone was thinking. Merlin was starting to give credence to Will's earlier conspiracy theory that Gwaine and Perceval had been faking their breakup all along.

" _Anyway_ ," Gwaine said with a heaved sigh, "I discovered that our illustrious leader and intrepid sorcerer…"

He paused for dramatic effect.

Geraint and Galahad tossed peanuts at him. "Get on with it!"

"… are _getting married_ ," Gwaine said, triumphant.

No one reacted. Gwaine pouted at the lack of reaction.

"We gathered that, given the whole stag-do," Lance said, waving a hand around the room.

"You don't understand," Gwaine exclaimed. "I know exactly where they are getting married. And when."

"No, you don't," Arthur said smugly. He frowned at Merlin and tilted his head questioningly.

Merlin frowned back, trying to keep his squirming from becoming too obvious. His finger brushed the round edge of a small penknife in his back pocket, and he pulled it out carefully. He wished he had the cutter that he'd been using to open up packages of new supplies earlier that day instead; it would be easier to use to cut through the rope without being noticed. Faster, too.

"Of course I do," Gwaine said.

"No, you really don't," Arthur said. He nodded his head toward Merlin. "If Merlin couldn't find out my real plans, what makes you think you can?"

Merlin gave Arthur a murderous look. If he wanted Merlin to get them out of this situation, he needed to keep the attention away from Merlin. It would be tricky enough to do it in a room surrounded by soldiers and spies and nosy reporters who knew what to look for, and their only advantage was that they seemed to be somewhat drunk already. 

"Because I got it straight from the source," Gwaine said, a broad grin splitting across his face. "The bloke at the registry, the old goat at the conservatory, the blond girl with blue highlights for the band, the banquet hall --"

"I had forty-three plans for proposing to Merlin," Arthur said calmly.

Merlin scowled, because he only knew about thirty-one of those. 

"Eighteen complete portfolios for the wedding." Arthur shrugged.

"I only found nine!"

Arthur flashed Merlin a brilliant smile. "I also had one hundred and twenty-three honeymoon destinations."

"Of course you did," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. He shook his head and used his scowl to cover up a grimace when he nearly slit his own wrist in an attempt to cut the tough rope with a dull blade. 

Someone moved to stand next to him, and Merlin froze. Lucan glanced down at him, an eyebrow raised, and said quietly, "Sorry about leaving you out in the cold."

Merlin's eyes narrowed. Either Lucan was seeing a therapist who was helping him turn into a Real Boy, or he was really, really drunk, because never once, not as long as Merlin had known Lucan, had the man ever apologized directly. He usually opted to apologize by doing something that was, for him, borderline _nice_. 

That was when Merlin realized that Lucan's real apology was by positioning himself as a shield to hide what Merlin was doing from everyone else.

Lucan could be an arse -- just like the rest of them. He had issues -- just like the rest of them. And like everyone else, he had a good heart, though it required scraping through several layers of muck and using a sleeve to polish dirty glass in order to see it.

"I'll forgive you in a few more minutes," Merlin told Lucan through gritted teeth. To Arthur, and louder, he said, "Wait. You _had_ , past tense?"

"Past tense," Arthur confirmed. "I scrapped them all and started fresh about six months ago."

"There's more? Oh, Gods," Merlin said, looking up at the ceiling. He twitched, trying to shift his arm at a better angle, and nearly dropped the penknife.

"Wait," someone said. Merlin didn't recognize the voice, but he didn't look for the person, either. "I thought they were already married?"

"Not officially," Pellinor said. "It was a handfasting, wasn't it? Yeah?"

"No legal paperwork, and believe me, I looked. In any case, the rules about pagan weddings were kind of tricky at the time," Cennydd said. "Still are."

"We don't have satellite coverage to prove it," Olaf said.

"As if you even know where it was," Arthur said with a scoff.

Merlin froze, because there was a _curious,_ hinting tone in Arthur's voice.

"Well, all we've got to do is track down all the places where there _wasn't_ any coverage on the day and in that time frame, and we'll narrow it down," Olaf said.

"It doesn't matter, because that's not where the wedding will be," Gwaine said stubbornly. He pointed an accusing finger at Arthur. "You're a clever one, you are, but I know you. You won't use credit cards, and you won't have anyone else do it, so you're taking care of it yourself."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, fine, I admit it. In my _copious_ spare time, when both Aithusa and Merlin aren't looking, I'm sneaking out of the house with a fat wad of cash to hire an unknown indie band and a homemaker caterer who keeps all her recipes on index cards."

"Ah ha! So you admit it!" Gwaine said.

"Gwaine." Arthur gave him a sardonic look.

"What?"

"You're not as sneaky as you think you are," Arthur said.

Gwaine sputtered. "Of course I am! I am the sneakiest --"

"Lucan," Arthur corrected.

Next to Merlin, Lucan stood up straight, shoulders rounded, a smug little grin on his face. He raised his mug in acknowledgement.

Merlin glanced between Arthur and Lucan, because once again, there was _that tone_. Merlin stopped fidgeting with his dull knife and leaned closer to Lucan, sniffing.

He didn't smell like cigarettes. He might have held a cigarette to complete the illusion, but the acrid smell of nicotine and ashes didn't cling to him like it should.

Lucan shifted aside, frowning down at Merlin curiously, but otherwise returned his attention to the conversation, shifting even closer as if he'd misinterpreted Merlin's actions as needing more cover for what he was doing.

"You're the nosiest," Perceval said.

Gwaine put a hand on his heart as if grievously injured, staggering back into the crowd. Bedivere grunted and shoved Gwaine forward.

"Be that as it may," Gwaine said, recovering easily, "the point stands. I, alone, uncovered a dastardly plot that involves two of our favourite people celebrating an union set to occur in the very near future. And, it appears, I, alone, realize the implications of the information that I've gathered at great expense --"

Someone snorted.

"-- to my sensibilities," Gwaine finished, not even missing a beat. A scowl came over his features and he looked around. "Seriously, does no one see it?"

"I'm just here for the beer," Kay said, holding up his glass.

"I thought it would be nice to see the team," Gareth said. He gestured toward Galahad. "I got tired of his ugly mug."

"Oh, nice," Galahad said.

Merlin cut through the last of the rope and forced himself to relax to keep the rope from slipping from his body. The magical restraints faded and his own magic rippled under his skin with an almost indignant flair, as if protesting that anyone or anything would want to imprison it in the first place. Merlin dared a quick glance in Mordred and Cennydd's directions, but they were paying more attention to Gwaine's antics than anything else.

Arthur raised an eyebrow in question. Merlin nodded to indicate he was ready. It wouldn't be more than a second to use his magic to free Arthur.

"Has no one noticed the obvious? I mean, _really_? All right, then. I want a show of hands. Each and every one of you -- raise them if the answer is yes. Have any of you received an invitation to this mysterious wedding that Arthur is planning to have in less than two weeks?"

The mood in the pub dropped and was sombre. Everyone exchanged glances with their nearest neighbours. No one raised their arm.

Merlin would have, except he was supposed to be tied up, and also, he didn't need an invitation when he was one of the participants. He knew the wedding was coming up, but only because Arthur was having him attend a number of strange appointments -- a food tasting cleverly disguised as a business meeting with several board members, a clothes-shopping trip that was no doubt an attempt to get his measurements for a tux, a visit to several of Aithusa's favourite ice cream shops to try a broad variety of cakes that would no doubt turn into a final selection at the wedding reception.

Arthur wasn't being subtle about it, at least not with Merlin. Merlin let Arthur have his little secret games and didn't try to unveil his plans because it made Arthur happy that he was getting away with it. The only thing that Merlin had asked for in exchange was knowing the exact date when their wedding would happen, so that he could make sure to clear his schedule.

Merlin's belly flip-flopped in anticipation. He couldn't wait. He shouldn't be nervous -- and he wasn't, not really. The squeeze he was feeling had more to do with the thrill that came with knowing they would be married. Not just handfasted. Not just living together and co-parenting a child. _Married_ , with an official piece of paper with all the legal entitlements that came with it. It didn't matter to Merlin whether or not their relationship was viable in the eyes of the law. It mattered that Arthur wanted this with him, just as much as Merlin wanted it, too.

"I think now would be a good time," Arthur said, mostly to Merlin.

"I think you're damn right now's a good time for you to explain yourself," Gwaine said.

Merlin grinned. His eyes flashed, the ropes fell from around Arthur, and Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand as they made their escape.

**ooOOoo**

Arthur groaned in satisfaction as the hot water sluiced over his head and down his neck. His head pounded, but someone -- Merlin, most likely -- had been sober enough to dig out the paracetamol and leave the packet and two bottles of water on the bedside table, and the pills were starting to take the edge off. No amount of protein shakes would make a dent in the hangover; the incessant throb wouldn't ease until he'd at least filled his belly with a decent fry-up.

It was a good thing that he'd stocked the refrigerator earlier in the week with all the essentials, though Arthur did wish that Gwaine hadn't been so efficient in pulling together the stag-do. Laying the clues down, letting Gwaine tail him throughout the city, paying certain people extra to "reluctantly" give the information to Gwaine when he came asking questions -- that had been a delicate exercise only slightly hampered by the fact that Gwaine was a sneaky bugger when he wanted to be. 

Arthur's only saving grace was that he knew Gwaine better than Gwaine knew himself, and that Gwaine would never know how much effort that Arthur had expended to ensure that Gwaine had the glory of uncovering Arthur's so-called _secret_ plot. Gwaine asked for so little that Arthur was happy to give it to him.

Merlin probably suspected that this was what Arthur had been up to lately, but he'd promised not to ask, investigate, or go snooping through Arthur's files. Arthur knew that Merlin was going along with his random, absurd requests for no other reason that he loved Arthur, and Arthur cherished that knowledge each and every day.

Arthur shut the hot water off reluctantly, running his hands through his hair to squeeze the excess out, and stepped out of the en-suite bathroom with a towel around his waist. Merlin was face-down somewhere under the blankets, pillows over his head, a hand dangling off the side.

Arthur considered going back to bed. Aithusa was with Kathy and Bran for the day, and they were scheduled to pick her up for dinner. Neither of them needed to go in to work that day, and they had several uninterrupted hours to themselves, to be used however they wanted, up to and including any kind of activity that could be performed in bed.

Including sleep.

Arthur dropped the towel to the floor and sneakily slid under the covers, inching closer to Merlin's warmth until he nearly completely covered him. Merlin grumbled in his sleep, rolling onto his side away from Arthur, and Arthur took the opportunity to be the big spoon, curling up around Merlin.

He sighed, feeling absurdly _happy_ , and allowed himself to relax and drift to sleep --

\-- only for the mobile to chime with a message from the front entrance of the building.

On any other day, Arthur could put money down on how quickly Merlin would get out of bed, fumble for socks and shoes, and run out of the bedroom in nothing else but his pants and slippers. On one memorable occasion, he'd made it all the way to the elevator before waking up fully and realizing he was underdressed for a day out.

This time, though, Merlin mumbled something under his breath, swatted the air in a feeble attempt to reach the snooze button on an alarm clock, and nearly took Arthur's eye out in the process. Arthur caught his hand, pressed a kiss on the knuckles, and muttered, "Go back to sleep, love."

He rolled out of bed and picked up the hard line. "Hello?"

"Good morning and my apologies, Mr Pendragon," the weekday security guard at the front entrance of the apartment building, Matthew, said. "I realize you have no guests scheduled for the day, but Mr Cross is here."

"Leon?" Arthur rubbed the side of his head, feeling his dull hangover erupt into something with a more strenuous rhythm. Leon hadn't shown up to the stag-do. Gwaine had expressed both his outrage and confusion, because he was sure that he'd called Leon with the details. His certainty degraded when he remembered that Morgana had been the one to answer the phone, and nearly the entire pub had gone silent.

"Yes, sir," Matthew said, and in a low voice, added, "Pardon me for saying so, but he looks as if he's had a rough night."

"Send him up," Arthur said.

"Yes, sir, right away," Matthew said. He hung up with a polite, "Have a good day." 

Arthur scratched his jaw before looking around for some trousers that didn't reek of spilled whiskey and beer. He left the last night's clothing victims on the floor and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

On the bed, Merlin shifted, wriggling and stretching as if he were about to wake up. Arthur clambered on the bed, ignoring Merlin's moans of complaints, pulled the pillow out of Merlin's grasp, and threw it out of the way. 

"Ugh," Merlin said, blinking squinty eyes at the sunlight streaming into the bedroom. "What time is it?"

"Nearly noon," Arthur said. He kissed Merlin's cheek. "Stay in bed a while longer, yeah? Leon's on his way up."

Merlin came all the way awake, blinking owlishly, and asked, "Leon? Is he all right?"

"I don't know," Arthur said. "From what Oliver said, probably not. I'll talk to Leon, see if… See if he's all right."

Merlin yawned, cracking his jaw, and kissed Arthur before sliding down into the comforts of their bed. "Another ten, and I'll shower. Come down, make breakfast?"

"Yeah, I could use a greasy fry-up," Arthur said, sliding off the bed. "Leon might as well. Look, if…"

"If he's all out of sorts, I'll take off," Merlin said reassuringly. "I keep telling you, Will and I are two separate entities --"

"Except when you're both drinking," Arthur said.

"-- and unlike him, I know the meaning of _tact_." Merlin frowned and let himself fall flat on the mattress, holding his head. "Even when drunk. Especially when hungover."

The doorbell to their flat rang. Arthur slid off the bed.

Merlin raised a feeble hand in the air and waved farewell.

Arthur shut the door to the bedroom with a fond look at Merlin sprawled on the bed, rolling over onto Arthur's side and curling up into a knot under the blankets. He'd imagined about having _this_ \-- to be able to wake up in the mornings to the peaceful look on Merlin's face as he slept, to Merlin mumbling under his breath about _too early_ and _blankets warm_ and _love you, five more minutes_ , and to Merlin waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares too great for him to bear and seeking refuge in the comfort of Arthur's arms.

Maybe Arthur wasn't as fond of Merlin's nightmares, but it was made up by the fact that Merlin would turn to him when he needed someone. Arthur would take the good times with the bad with pleasure, because he was going to get to have _this_ for the rest of his life.

He already knew that he would have everything he'd ever wanted where Merlin was concerned even without the "official" wedding, but somehow, he was comforted with the knowledge that despite everything they'd been through, Merlin loved him.

Arthur swallowed the emotional lump in his throat, ignoring the corresponding squeeze at his temple, and headed down the stairs, crossing the living room to answer the hesitant knock at the door.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I wanted to go to your stag-do. I did. I never wanted to miss that. I'm sorry, Arthur," Leon said, sounding helpless and very, very small, like he hadn't in a very long time. 

Arthur hadn't heard Leon like this since they were boys and Leon's father made a bad habit of coming home drunk after bad days at work, taking out his frustrations by yelling at his son for his poor grades in school. Arthur had wanted to hurt Leon's father for hurting Leon, even if only in words, and he wanted to hurt whoever had done this to Leon now.

Unlike the cutting words that would tear the heart and courage of a young boy, the damage this time around was physical. Leon's curly hair was knotted and in disarray; the half-circles under his eyes were heavy and dark, and the scruff on his cheek hadn't seen a razor in days because it would be too painful to shave through the fresh scrape along his jaw.

A faded bruise with a sharp edge on his brow. A tiny scar through an eyebrow that hadn't been there in the few months since they left their army commission behind. An arm held close to the chest, a body held stiff and off-balance from other, hidden injuries. Dried blood along the hairline and what looked to be a fresh trickle at the throat.

"Jesus," Arthur said, pulling Leon inside. Leon didn't fight him. Arthur shut the door behind them and dragged Leon into his arms.

The sound from Leon's mouth was heartbreaking. He collapsed as if someone had snipped the puppeteer's strings holding him upright, and the last of Leon's strength seeped out of him as he sobbed into Arthur's shoulder, gasping words Arthur couldn't understand and didn't need to.

This wasn't an incident of a mugging gone wrong. Leon hadn't been roughed up by the mob. A mob of punks hadn't ambushed him in a dark parking lot somewhere.

This was Morgana.

A surge of fury like nothing Arthur had ever felt rose up and tinted the edges of his vision. He'd been angry to learn that Morgana had done or said things to the members of his team to contradict their missions, to put them in dangerous situations that they wouldn't be able to get out of easily. He'd been filled by a combination of rage and delayed dread when that treatment had extended to Merlin, and that Merlin had nearly been killed.

It hadn't been easy to brush it off, but it was done and in the past. It was easier to ignore when Arthur himself had been the target of Morgana's manipulations, even though he hadn't come to any harm.

But this…

 _This_.

Leon loved Morgana. He'd been steadfast in his adoration, no matter how many other relationships he or Morgana had had. He loved Morgana despite her faults, even _because_ of them, and that love came freely, without familial obligation or debt. 

This, more than anything, jarred Arthur.

Arthur couldn't wrap his mind around it. Morgana as a rebellious teenager, yes. Morgana as a spiteful adult, yes. Morgana as someone who would deliberately endanger the men who had become like brothers to her? No. Morgana, who put Merlin in the line of fire and tried to kill him? No.

Morgana, who hurt the greatest love of her life?

"It's not her," Leon said, pulling away. He wiped his face with the flat of his palm and didn't meet Arthur's eyes. "I don't know what happened, but it's not her anymore."

"Leon --"

Leon shook his head. He turned for the door. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Leon." Pushing command into his tone made Arthur's head throb, but it was also the only thing that Leon seemed to respond to. Leon froze halfway to the door, his shoulders dropped, his head down. "What you should do is take off your coat, sit your arse on the sofa, and stay there while I get the first aid kit."

Arthur waited while Leon did just that. He pressed a comforting hand on Leon's shoulder. Leon pressed back against the contact, as if grateful for it.

"We'll sort it," Arthur said. He lingered a moment longer before taking the stairs two at a time, crossing through the bedroom to the en-suite. Merlin yelped in surprise at his sudden appearance and dropped the bottle of shampoo, sticking his head out just as Arthur knelt to rummage under the sink.

Merlin didn't say anything when Arthur pulled out the hard kit and stood up. They stared at each other wordlessly, and Arthur could almost see the question forming in Merlin's eyes.

"Stay," he said, his voice rough, almost broken. "I'm going to need you."

"I'll be right down," Merlin said.

Leon was where Arthur had left him, though he was sitting on the cushion's edge, one elbow on his knee, one hand supporting his other arm. He looked up when Arthur tended to him, finding a fresh gash hidden by the hairline. It had bled a lot, but wasn't so deep to need stitches; Arthur glued it together anyway. The cut at the throat was a little deeper, the edges neat, as if made with a surgical knife.

By the time the scent of Merlin's fresh coffee filled the flat, Arthur had catalogued nearly all of Leon's injuries. None of them were life-threatening, but they would give any police officer pause, wondering if they needed to arrest someone on domestic assault charges. Leon's arm was tender and swollen, and Arthur suspected that it was broken.

"I think it is," Leon said woodenly. "I heard it snap."

Arthur exchanged glances with Merlin across the living room. Merlin's mouth tightened, clearly angry, but he turned and started taking to-go coffee mugs out of the cupboard, and set to toasting a few more bagels. "All right. We'll take you to A&E. Give me a second. I'll go get dressed."

Leon didn't answer him, and with a strangled sigh, Arthur detoured through the kitchen. Merlin slathered jam on top of a thick layer of cream cheese for one bagel, and already had the makings of a ham-and-cheese sandwich for another. He bumped Arthur's hip when Arthur reached for something to settle his twisted stomach, but the chastisement was half-hearted at best.

"You don't have to come," Arthur murmured.

Merlin shot him a sidelong glare. "Of course I'm coming."

Arthur's smile was sad. He nodded and headed to their bedroom and dressed in jeans, throwing on a sweater over his shirt, and paused to look at his reflection in the mirror.

Never had looking in his own eyes been so difficult. It didn't matter that he hadn't known what was going on at the time. That his own men, that his husband, hadn't told him anything. He'd heard only some of it afterward. He hadn't thought to check in on Leon, to see Morgana outside of the office where she always held herself with professional detachment.

He had no excuse.

Merlin was ready with a rather round go-bag, as if he expected a long wait at the hospital and had packed half the contents of the refrigerator. He had three travel coffee mugs tucked in the crook of his arm and the car keys in his hand, ready to go, but he waited patiently while Arthur cajoled Leon off the couch, draping his coat over his shoulders.

The trip to the hospital was quiet until Leon broke the silence five kilometers before they arrived. 

"Morgana's… not herself," Leon said hesitantly, as if he were testing the words to see if they fit. Then, with slightly more confidence, Leon repeated, "She's not herself. I mean, sometimes she's fine. Like she's supposed to be. The rest of the time…"

Leon trailed off. Arthur stopped himself from prompting Leon to continue by taking a long sip of strong coffee, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I was getting ready for the stag-do," Leon said slowly, the way he always did when he was reporting in on a mission. It was the same flat, emotionless tone, taking out personal observations and reactions. 

Arthur glanced sideways at Leon, wondering if he even knew what he was doing, or if he had chosen to deliberately detach himself because everything else was too hard for him to deal with.

"Gwen and Kathy dropped her off. They'd taken the kids out shopping and for an early tea. I couldn't tie my tie. I was waiting for Morgana to come in. I heard shouting and went outside.

"Gwen was pushing Morgana away. Kathy was holding Bran back. The baby was in the car, crying. Aithusa… Aithusa had gone blank."

Arthur glanced in the rear-view mirror. Merlin leaned forward between the seats. They both knew what it meant when Aithusa went _blank_. It happened when she was facing a high stress situation that reminded her of the trauma she'd gone through before Merlin rescued her from Julius Borden.

"I didn't know what was happening. I pushed Gwen away. She fell against the car, but she wasn't hurt, I don't think. It took a while to get everyone's story straight." Leon's thousand-yard stare was fixed at a distant point through the windshield; he hadn't noticed that Arthur missed the turn.

Arthur soberly slowed down for traffic and changed their route to return to the hospital.

"Bran was being… Bran. He said something. Morgana slapped him."

Arthur was glad that he was stopped for the light, because he turned to look at Leon, startled.

"That's what Gwen and Morgana were shouting about," Leon said. "I guess Kathy would have gotten in on that, too, except Bran was mad and his magic was flaring, and Aithusa…"

Leon closed his eyes.

"The baby kept screaming. Everything happened so fast. Morgana said _no niece of hers would hang out with a stupid street kid like Bran_ and she grabbed Aithusa. Aithusa started to cry, but she didn't fight back. Kathy got in between them and Bran --"

Leon shook his head, but Arthur barely noticed. His knuckles were white, and he was _furious_. From the flash of gold in the rear-view mirror, he knew Merlin was, too.

"It got sorted out, somehow. Gwen and Kathy left with the kids. I got Morgana into the house, told her that she shouldn't have done that, that Merlin put Aithusa in Kathy's care and that he'll be mad when he found out, that you would be, too, but --"

Leon swallowed hard. He raised his chin. 

"It was like Merlin's name flipped a switch. She absolutely… She lost it. I…"

Leon rubbed his forehead with a shaky hand. Arthur pulled up at the front entrance of the emergency room and waited for Leon to finish.

"She wasn't there when I woke up. It must've been around midnight. I… She didn't come home. I started to look for her, but --"

"It's all right. We'll find her. Let's get you looked at first," Arthur said, getting out of the car. He hurried around the front, meeting Merlin at the front passenger door. Leon hadn't moved from his seat. "Can you --"

"I'll move the car. I'll talk to Gwen and Kathy. Do you want me to call the others?" Merlin asked.

The tension in Arthur's shoulders relaxed marginally. He had never been more grateful for Merlin than in this moment. Arthur's mind was running at full speed, trying to address possibilities, options and explanations while simultaneously trying to come up with a plan. He couldn't verbalize them quickly enough, but Merlin had read his mind.

"Please," he said.

"All right. Get him inside," Merlin said, heading for the driver's side. 

Leon seemed to come more into himself by the time it was their turn in the queue. Arthur lingered while Leon registered at the front desk, staying close enough to answer questions in case Leon couldn't, and escorted Leon to the car corner of the waiting room in what Arthur hoped was a quiet, secluded spot. Most of the seats were taken and the midday saw a lot of traffic through the waiting room, but none of the visitors were Merlin.

Arthur wished he'd thought of grabbing the travel mugs from the cup holders, because Leon looked pale, and Arthur's hangover was back. The caffeine at least would allow Arthur to sort through all the thoughts running amok in his head, but no matter what kind of reasoning he came up with to explain Morgana's behaviour, he couldn't help returning to the same thing over and over again.

 _It's not Morgana_.

Arthur nudged Leon's knee to get his attention. Leon looked at him, guilty and defeated, breaking eye contact before Arthur could ask his question. Arthur leaned back, leaned in, and quietly asked, "What did you mean, when you said, it's not Morgana?"

Leon bit his lower lip. "You're going to think I'm mad."

"We've fought zombies," Arthur said flatly. "You've gone a-dragonback. Gwaine won a card game against a bridge troll. We passed _mad_ a long time ago."

A small smile touched Leon's lips, but it didn't last. His shoulders hunched and he shifted in his seat, wincing when he jostled his arm, and finally, when he spoke, it was at a whisper that was nearly drowned out by the nurse calling in the next patient.

"Sometimes… sometimes, she's Morgana. The one we grew up with. That I married. Other times…" Leon shook his head. "I thought, maybe, maybe it had something to do with when she was kidnapped. Some sort of PTSD. God knows she's been through enough with all the visions she used to get.

"But then…

"I ignored everyone, you know? They told me. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to see it. I thought they were wrong, or they were making things up because they were jealous of what I have. Since coming back…" Leon closed his eyes as if bracing against the guilt that already weighed down his tone, and shook his head. He met Arthur's gaze earnestly and said, "Since coming back, I realize… She's not always _her_.

"She… changes. She walks differently. She dresses differently. Her lasagna is… disgusting." A grimace crossed Leon's expression. "I mean, it's always been disgusting, but she'd sworn off making it after nearly burning down the house years ago, and all of a sudden, she's making it again?"

"Maybe she found a new recipe?" Arthur tried, but the attempt at humour fell flat.

"It's just not _her_ ," Leon insisted. He fell silent, swallowing hard before speaking again. "Arthur. Everything we've seen -- Neal Sigan, that Mary woman -- do you think…?"

_Possession._

"I don't know," Arthur said. He put a reassuring hand on Leon's good arm. "We'll find out. Whatever it is, we'll get her back."

Leon nodded, but it was without any real conviction. Several more minutes passed before Merlin arrived, the go-bag on his shoulders, cradling two travel mugs in the crook of one hand while holding the third possessively close to his chest. He scanned the room, spotted Arthur and Leon, and moved around a group of people milling close to the entrance, sliding in the seat next to Leon.

"Aithusa's fine," Merlin said, answering the first question Arthur had been about to ask. He handed over the travel mugs and slid the go-bag to the floor. "Bran is, too."

Leon exhaled, relaxing, as if that had been his primary worry next to whatever was going on with Morgana. 

"Lance is on his way," Merlin said, and Arthur was glad, because of any of them, Lance knew the team's medical histories better than the team themselves did. X-rays of Leon's arm were bound to raise questions -- it wasn't the first time that he'd fractured it -- and Lance would be in a better position to explain the magical runes that had bonded to Leon's bones. He was better at medical subterfuge than Arthur. "Kathy's going to wake up Kay and Will and have them call us back. They don't know about Bran yet. Perce is calling the others to get them started to look for Morgana."

"Good," Arthur said, because those were the first few things that he wanted to get done. He opened his mouth to ask if Kathy could keep Aithusa longer, but Merlin beat him to the punch.

"Kathy said she'll watch Aithusa longer and not to worry," Merlin said. He hesitated, but glanced at Leon and shook his head. Instead, he opened the go-bag, passed over hastily-wrapped bagel sandwiches, and took a hearty bite of his own. 

Arthur's stomach grumbled, protesting the lack of sustenance. The paracetamol and the coffee were not cutting it.

Leon, thankfully, ate, though slowly and distractedly. Merlin finished his bagel, brushed off his fingers, and shoved the paper towel into his bag before pulling out his netbook.

Arthur didn't have to ask what he was doing. Merlin knew him well enough that he'd address Arthur's primary concern without asking what it was -- _Where was Morgana?_ Only a few minutes passed, but Arthur was certain that Merlin had already hacked into the CCTV database and had opened the video feeds close to Leon and Morgana's house.

Lance arrived over an hour later and in time for Leon's name to be called. Given the number of people and the average wait times, Arthur suspected that it would have been several more hours before Leon was called if Arthur hadn't pulled some strings. When Leon got up to follow the nurse, Arthur raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and Lance, despite his obvious hangover, nodded resolutely and followed Leon through to the examining room. 

Arthur moved one seat over and looked over Merlin's shoulder. He'd been right; the video feed was playing in eight tiny windows on the left side of the screen, while Merlin was doing something on the right side that was most likely illegal.

"What else didn't you tell us?" Arthur asked quietly.

Merlin glanced up, then around. No one had taken the seats immediately besides them, and the waiting room was crowded and noisy. Keeping his voice low and leaning in close in order to be heard, Merlin said, "It's something Kathy said. She hadn't seen Morgana in months. Morgana kept cancelling their plans, and for a while Kathy thought Morgana was avoiding her."

"Okay," Arthur said, glancing around. There were only a handful of reasons that he could think of for Morgana to go out of her way to cancel her plans with Kathy. They'd been acquaintances before the war, but finding out about Morgana's magic had made the two of them close friends.

"Also, last night? Kathy said she didn't think anything of it at the time. She thought it was Bran reacting badly when he got slapped. But when it happened, Kathy felt… bad magic? She didn't explain. Bran said he felt it, too."

Arthur sighed. He nodded, though mostly to himself. "What are the odds that she's possessed?"

"Better than zero," Merlin said, bowing his head over the netbook. He stopped typing and chewed his bottom lip. "But do you know something? I can't remember the last time I've seen Morgana in person. On Skype when we were on missions, on the phone or the radio, sure, but she's never in her office when I drop in for a visit, and she's cancelled our dinner plans how many times?"

Arthur clenched his jaw when he followed Merlin's line of thought. "She's avoiding Kathy. She's avoiding you."

"Yeah," Merlin said. "Magic users."

Arthur searched Merlin's expression, recognizing both the tone and the pinch in his brow. Arthur shifted in his seat, turning to face him, and waited for Merlin to continue his line of thought, but when Merlin's expression intensified, Arthur knew he'd lost his chance. So he reached over, ran his hand through Merlin's hair, and gave him a good scratch.

"Hm?"

Arthur tugged Merlin's hair. Softly, he asked, "What are you thinking?"

Merlin stopped typing. He exhaled slowly, tilting his head toward Arthur, though he never took his eyes off the netbook screen. "Everyone says… it's not like her. One minute she's fine. The next…"

Merlin tapped a key, but Arthur had no idea what for, because there were no changes as far as he could tell.

"And you can't tell me that our Morgana's capable of breaking Leon's arm, not without a solid metal bat. She's terrifying, but she's not the sort for physical violence when she can cut someone down just as well with words," Merlin said. He met Arthur's eyes. "Morgana's a Seer. She's not a sorcerer. She shouldn't be able to…"

Arthur clenched his jaw and nodded. "Yeah. She shouldn't."

"What does that tell you, though?" Merlin asked. "Sometimes she's herself. Sometimes she's not."

Possession, they'd learned, was a constant. Sigan was a prime example of being possessed by an otherworldly, malevolent entity that rapidly and completely took over Sigan's body. While there might be instances of partial possession, Arthur hadn't heard of any.

If Morgana wasn't being possessed, it meant something else was at play. "She's being controlled."

"Maybe," Merlin said, sounding grim. "I'll talk to Gaius."

"Yeah," Arthur said, closing his eyes. He rested his elbow on Merlin's shoulder and rubbed his forehead. 

The war they were meant to fight might be over, their duty to their country done, but it seemed that they would never be completely free of challenges. His mind swirled with possibilities. Cults most likely to be responsible. Sorcerers who had been flagged by MI-5's newest division and by the Directory. Members of the NWO who had taken exception to everything that Exalibur and their families had done against the war.

"Bottom left pocket," Merlin said.

"Hm?" Arthur asked.

"Paracetamol," Merlin said. "I've got protein bars and bottles of water too."

"Lifesaver," Arthur murmured, reaching for the go-bag. He dropped one of the protein bars on the keyboard with a pointed look at Merlin. He helped himself to the painkillers and the bottle of water -- that Merlin took out of his hand to drink -- before tearing open another protein bar for himself.

A nudge at his side drew his attention and he followed Merlin's gesture to study the netbook. Merlin maximized one of the text windows. It was a record of Morgana's latest credit card charge.

"I'm going to have to make sure you only ever use your powers for good," Arthur said, reaching for his phone. "Get me an address for that hotel. I'll call Lucan."

**ooOOoo**

"There's… something definitely off," Cennydd said. He gave the barista a little smile and a courteous nod when she returned his change. With a tilt of his head in invitation to follow, Cennydd moved over to the pick-up station.

"Can you tell what it is?" Merlin asked.

"I can't get close enough," Cennydd said apologetically. He rubbed his hands together -- less to warm them and more to _will_ away the lingering tingles of his still-recovering injury. Nerve damage took a long time to heal, even with magical encouragement, but the would-be assassin was far worse off, considering that he was dead.

"So we still have nothing," Merlin said, grumbling.

It had been two weeks since the stag-do and waking up to a beat-up and despairing Leon. They'd tracked Morgana to the hotel, where Lucan found her. Six shifts of rotating stake-outs and forty-eight hours later, Morgana did nothing more but order room service and stay in her hotel room. There were no phone calls and no visitors, and it wasn't until too late that they realized that Morgana's sole human contact during this time was the person delivering room service.

Alas, that person had never been on the staff to begin with and had disappeared hours before Morgana finally checked herself out, returning home in the same clothes that she'd left in, acting as if nothing had happened. She fretted over Leon's bruises and broken arm as if she hadn't been the perpetrator, suspiciously accepting of Leon's weak explanation that _it happened the night of the stag-do_ , and asked no more questions.

"I wouldn't call it _nothing_ ," Cennydd said, taking the hot carton mugs from the barista with a grateful nod. He pushed one of them into Merlin's hands pointedly. "I might not be at Mordred's level, or yours, but I have my tricks."

"Of course you do," Merlin said, staring unhappily at the take-away mug. "I wanted coffee."

" _Tea_ ," Cennydd said, eyebrows raised in chastisement. "You drink too much coffee. You're harried enough as it is between Arthur's impeding knighthood, divesting your company without losing your patents, and, of course, the wedding."

"The wedding." Merlin winced. 

Arthur had tried to be subtle about it, but there was no easy way to trick someone into visiting a flower shop in order to figure out which of the flower schemes Merlin would like best. In his exhaustion, he had flat out asked Merlin to visit the shop, "For reasons we won't discuss, and I'll suck you off right now if you say you'll go," and it had been, by far, Merlin's favourite among the many devious tactics Arthur had used to find out what Merlin would like best.

It was also the one he felt most guilty about. He'd had to postpone the appointment twice already because of the situation with Morgana -- the last straw was when she showed up at Aithusa's school and tried to walk away with her during midday -- and he knew Arthur was stressed out enough without worrying about this one, simple detail, but flowers were apparently more important than figuring out what was going on with Morgana.

"If I can make a recommendation, go with the third combination. It's lovely and powerful," Cennydd said, his tone turning wistful. "There's not many who would go to the effort to research and put together something with this significance."

Curious, Merlin asked, "What do they mean --"

"Nope. You'll know when you see them," Cennydd said, momentarily distracted when a table freed up. He hurried over and intercepted a young couple trying to claim it for their own, not the least bit affected by their withering glares. Cennydd waited for Merlin to sit down before continuing, "And before you ask, I have better things to do with my time than to figure out what he's got in mind for your wedding. I only know about the flowers because he asked."

"Oh." Merlin frowned, feeling disappointed. He glanced at his watch. There was still time, and he could make that appointment at the flower shop if he hurried. Crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward, Merlin asked, "To the point, then. You said you had your tricks?"

"I did," Cennydd confirmed, distractedly checking his pockets before coming up with a smartphone. He tapped through the lock screen. "I compared surveillance of Morgana on days and times when someone reported that she was behaving like herself and when she wasn't. Turns out that of all of our best guesses, Gaius' was closest to being correct."

Merlin took Cennydd's phone and studied the screen. He couldn't tell when the photograph had been taken, but in the centre stage was Morgana, emerging from Pendragon Consulting. Her thigh-length coat flapped in the breeze, her designer leather case hung from her shoulder, and she was either putting on or removing her sunglasses. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

"Scroll through," Cennydd said encouragingly.

There were more photos. Some looked to have been taken on the same day, given what Morgana was wearing. The images had been blown up and zoomed in, the frame always focused on Morgana's hands or wrists. It took going through the series of photographs twice before Merlin caught on.

In most of the photographs, and with what looked to be alarming frequency, Morgana wore a slim silver bracelet around her right wrist. Merlin couldn't make out the details, as none of the photographs were enlarged to that degree, but the quality of the renderings was sufficient to confirm that it was the same piece of jewellery. Morgana didn't always wear it, and in those photographs, she was more _herself_ , somehow, with an easier smile, genuine humour sparkling in her eyes, holding herself with grace and assurance.

When she wore the bracelet, her shoulders were stiff, the smile was gone, and there was hooded guile in her eyes.

"I see," Merlin said, memorizing the shape of the bracelet before sending the best close-up to his phone. He returned Cennydd's phone.

"I thought you would," Cennydd said, smiling. "Next to Mordred, you're my favourite."

"That's all you have for me? No idea about enchantments or…?" Merlin asked.

"I haven't been able to get close enough," Cennydd reminded Merlin. "I need physical contact to be able to determine the nature and source of any spells woven into an object. Taking things apart from a distance without touching them? That, I'm afraid, is your specialty," Cennydd said, pausing to sip his tea. "Olaf wants it for his collection."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, because he has such an excellent track record keeping dangerous artefacts secure. I told him the Queen's repository is better."

Cennydd's eyebrows raised in mirth, but he didn't speak until after he put down his tea. "He said, and I am paraphrasing for the sake of being in polite company, until you accept the Queen's offer, he doesn't have to do anything you say. I don't see why you haven't done it yet. You're the most powerful sorcerer the world will ever know. You already do all the work without the trappings of the office and obtain none of the rewards."

"That's not why I do it," Merlin said.

"I know," Cennydd said. "Which is why the Druids unanimously agreed that they will meet with the Queen to tender an offer of mutual protection and safety once you accept the position. They wouldn't do that if they didn't have faith in you, and if it were someone else…"

Merlin sighed, shaking his head. He needed a drink, and the tea, while good, wasn't anywhere near strong enough. Cennydd was right. Merlin already did all the work that would be asked of him if he took Bayard's job. Now that magic was front and centre in the public eye, the only real difference was that he would have no choice but to make public appearances, and that wasn't particularly appealing to him.

The one real reason he hadn't returned the increasingly-demanding requests for a response, the reason no one other than Arthur knew, was because of Aithusa. Putting himself under direct authority of the Queen was also giving her access to Aithusa's Dragonlord. Merlin didn't want Aithusa to be influenced in any way. He didn't think the Queen would stoop so low as to use him that way, but at the same time, he didn't want to take the risk.

Merlin put down his cup and rubbed his eye. "What about the other thing? Have you found any information on whoever could be doing this to Morgana?"

Cennydd's eyes narrowed as if he wasn't going to let Merlin escape the topic so easily, but a canny grin touched his lips. "Dear Merlin. You're out. Out of the army, out of MI-5. Your contract with Bayard and the Directory is long expired. You may have retained your security clearance, but that doesn't mean you have direct access to information to an ongoing investigation."

"You son of a bitch," Merlin said, without any real heat. "This is Morgana we're talking about."

Cennydd hummed in agreement. He finished off his tea and stood up with every indication of leaving, though he stopped next to Merlin and leaned in to say, "Do you know, accepting the position doesn't mean accepting the terms that came with it. The Queen wants you so badly that she's willing to compromise, but she doesn't know where. And if you don't…"

Cennydd hesitated.

"If you don't. Well. She can't run the risk that the most powerful sorcerer in the world would turn against her." Cennydd's tone was sad. "You know what that means."

Merlin felt a cold chill run down his spine.

"Don't be obstinate. Talk to Arthur. The both of you are in the same situation. You are both important and influential. A great deal of good could be accomplished if the two of you were in the right positions."

"And what positions are those? The Royal Mouthpiece and the Royal Guard Dog?"

Amusement touched Cennydd's expression, but it didn't reach his eyes. "If you like. Oh. If you're going to do something about Morgana, do it soon. Olaf is extremely uncomfortable with the idea that a malicious individual or group is controlling someone with Morgana's background. She knows far too many people, has too much access to government secrets, and can do so much damage with a few carefully-placed words."

"Fuck," Merlin said, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes. He felt, more than saw, Cennydd leave the coffee shop. Cennydd's magic had always had an eclectic feel to it, never lingering long. Once it had faded completely, Merlin stood up and left, too, abandoning his barely-touched tea.

He called Arthur's number.

Arthur answered on the second ring with, "If you're calling me to change the appointment again --"

"I'm on my way right now," Merlin promised. "I'll make it. That's not why I'm calling."

There was a pause and the sound of a door closing. The background noise of general office hubbub muted in the soundproofed room. Merlin knew that Arthur swept his office regularly for bugs, and calling Arthur's mobile rather than the hard line added a layer of secure encryption to their conversation. "Cennydd came through?"

"If you call veiled threats and warnings _coming through_ ," Merlin said bitterly. He glanced around out of habit, scanning the faces of passer-bys and the car makes driving by. One day, he would be old and grey and still checking to see if he was being followed, the habit too ingrained in him to break. 

"All right," Arthur said calmly. "What did he have?"

"Morgana's wearing a bracelet. It looks to be heavy silver with three oval stones. Ugly as fuck, but what do I know? I'll send you the picture in a minute. Cennydd thinks it's the most likely source of the problem," Merlin said. "Either we steal it when she's not wearing it, or we take it off her wrist. She's starting to wear it more often, so the faster we do it --"

"I'll talk to Leon. Will destroying the bracelet be enough?"

"Olaf wants it," Merlin said.

"He's not getting it," Arthur said.

"If I can get the bracelet, I'll be able to tell what needs to be done," Merlin said. "I got the impression from Cennydd that he thinks I'll be able to handle it."

There was a pause. Arthur asked, "What else?"

Merlin hesitated. He trotted down the stairs to the train, slowing down as he queued up to get in line, token already in hand to pass through. "We need to talk. About what we're going to do."

The familiar sound of Arthur's chair creaking as he sat back was audible even over the rush of the train coming through the tunnel and slowing down at the platform.

"Train's here," Merlin prompted.

"Yes, fine. We've danced around it and avoided it as much as we can. We'll talk tonight, yeah?" 

"I'll bring pizza for dinner. Chin up, love. It's not like we're walking to the gallows," Merlin said, squeezing past the exiting passengers to reach the door.

"Certainly feels like it," Arthur says. "Tell me what you think about the flowers."

"I will," Merlin said, hanging up with a sigh. 

Arthur was right. Given the situations they were both in, it did feel as if they were frog-marched to their doom. The only good thing was those external forces were pushing them toward similar goals. Merlin's role as the Royal Sorcerer would put him even more at risk of threats, and he was going to have to play the role of ambassador and international diplomat, at the very least. Arthur's knighting would place him into completely different social circles than he was accustomed to, where he would easily make additional contacts on top of the ones he already had. All those contacts would no doubt pressure him even more to take a political position for the benefit of those in power, though no doubt many would be surprised to find out how unyielding Arthur was when others tried to manipulate him.

At least they wouldn't be alone in the spotlight, if it came to that. 

The flower shop was a few blocks over from the train stop, half-hidden in-between an innocuous red-brick building and a mechanic's shop. The aromatics were surprisingly not overpowering, the plants big and beautiful, and the underlying sweet-soft flavour of magic throughout the shop hinted at a gifted florist capable of many great and wonderful things.

Merlin liked her immediately.

He was taken through six different types of flower arrangements, each of them with different combinations of flowers. In all honesty, Merlin didn't really care what flowers there were at their wedding, as long as their guests liked them, but when he took a step back and really took them in, he understood what Cennydd had meant.

Every bouquet told the same story, though with different emotions and heavy emphasis on specific meanings. The flowers, the number of petals and leaves, the additional frippery of baby's breath and small flowers and greenery to flesh out the bouquets -- each of them a message in them on their own and when combined together.

Merlin was drawn to the third bouquet. It wasn't hard to see why. Snapdragons blotted out by stars of Bethlehem. Ivy wound about pear blossoms. Protea, gladiolus, and daffodils braided together. Amaranth and primrose together, understated but at the centre of it all.

The flowers and the arrangement spoke of companionship, of frustration, of reconciliation, of friendship,; of courage, honour, and loyalty, and finally, of love eternal and everlasting. The bouquet told the story of how they'd begun, how they'd grown together, and how they were now.

Merlin spent far too much time studying each and every bouquet before returning to the third one again and again, blinking away the tears as he recalled more and more of the teachings Gaius had tried to instill in him as a child. There were some flowers and species of greens that Merlin didn't recognize, but that he was moved to ask about, so that he could look them up in his old books later, when Arthur wasn't home.

"Did you --" Merlin trailed off, not sure how to ask the question without seeming insulting.

The florist smiled and shook her head, seemingly understanding what Merlin meant. "He was very specific. Is it this one, then?"

Merlin smiled faintly, too overwhelmed to do anything but nod.

When he left the flower shop, the sun was already setting and it was getting late, but he braved the rain that had started falling with a ridiculous smile on his face, a spring in his step, and a funny feeling in his chest.

From what little that Merlin was able to put together from casual comments, not-so-sneaky attempts to see which of several options Merlin would like better, and outright and outrageous revelations, Merlin knew that Arthur was investing a great deal of effort into putting their wedding together. Arthur wouldn't be redirected any more, and if there was one thing that Merlin had grown to understand about Arthur, it was that he never felt right if he wasn't planning something or working on some grand project.

Arthur's tendency to overplan and take things over had bothered Merlin a great deal, at least in the beginning of their relationship. He got used to it, eventually, and it became a game to see how often he could trip Arthur up. And now? Now, Merlin _understood_ Arthur's need, and there were only two reasons he allowed Arthur to proceed without any input from Merlin. The first was because Arthur had agreed to Merlin's simple rules, but the second, more important one, was because, for once, Arthur was doing something for himself. 

Arthur gave everyone else so much. His time, his advice, his assistance. His friendship, his guidance, his care and concern. He did this to his own detriment, working himself to exhaustion that none of the others could sustain, all to keep them as safe as he possibly could.

It was time that Arthur took all his focus and his attention and directed it inward. He was getting an unusual and frightening amount of glee planning and overplanning things, going so far as to outsmart half of the team while using the others against them. More than one late night found Merlin awakened by the sound of Arthur chortling to himself as he read his emails to discover that yet another of their friends had failed in an attempt to find out what was going on.

If it brought Arthur joy to do this for himself, Merlin was happy to let him.

The realization that Arthur was finding joy in demonstrating, in his own way, how much he loved Merlin? Well. Merlin was overwhelmed and choked up.

This man was going to be his husband. 

Maybe they weren't married in the eyes of the law, but they'd learned a long time ago that the law sometimes didn't apply, or was too far behind the times. Sometimes, it was best that they do what they felt was right.

For Merlin, _Arthur_ was all that he needed. A piece of paper didn't change that. For him, this re-marriage was an affirmation of everything that he felt for Arthur, except this time, it was Arthur who was blindsiding them both into another ceremony.

After seeing those flowers, all the complaints about Arthur's theatrics and secrecy suddenly evaporated.

Merlin called in their orders for dinner -- an extra-large meat-lover pizza for them, a small cheese with a blasphemous amount of pineapple for Aithusa -- and rode the train to the station closest to their building. He stopped into the shop on his walk home, waved a good-night to Oliver, who was heading home after his shift, and rode the elevator to their penthouse flat.

In that time, that funny feeling in his chest never went away, and Merlin didn't want it to.

"I'm home!" Merlin announced, shutting the door behind him. He was kicking off his shoes when Aithusa came running, her tackle nearly knocking the pizza boxes to the ground. Merlin's magic flared out to catch them, and Arthur took them out of thin air with a bemused smile, to carry them into the kitchen. 

"Pizza!" Aithusa said in greeting, pulling him down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Who? What? Where? Are you talking to me? Because I don't think that's my name," Merlin teased.

"Daaa-ddy," Aithusa rolled her eyes, turning around and skipping into the kitchen.

Merlin shook his head and shrugged out of his jacket. He could hear Arthur shuffling around in the kitchen. "Put these on the table, sweetheart."

"Paper plates, papa? Is this a party?" Aithusa asked.

"No, this is your papa not being in the mood to clean up afterward," Arthur said.

"But paper plates mean it's a party!" Aithusa said, clomping into the small dining room. "Does it mean I could have a soda? Because there's pizza and paper plates. There should be soda and ice cream --"

"No soda," Arthur said firmly, but the stern tone he was going for was spoiled by the small smile of amusement that appeared when Merlin rounded the corner and made eye contact. They immediately looked away.

The last time Aithusa broke into the soda, she had a very strange, albeit completely hysterical, reaction to all the carbonate and sugar. They'd never needed to police her sugar intake before, since she didn't really have a sweet tooth, only a weakness for treats, but all that soda meant that she spent the night serenading them from her bedroom with loud, drawn-out farts. Neither Arthur nor Merlin had been able to stop giggling, and it had been made worse when Arthur had them swear a solemn vow to never stand behind a dragon if they were ever caught drinking soda.

Aithusa, however, had not been amused, but for some reason, she insisted on having soda every day from that point forward.

"But papa --"

"You can have ice cream or you can have soda," Arthur challenged.

Aithusa's eyes narrowed, but she bargained, "Ice cream and a movie."

Arthur was a man who could hold his ground against an oncoming horde of resurrected bodies possessed by the most vicious fighters to ever walk the British Isles. He could negotiate his way out of the bramble bush that was the board of directors at Pendragon Consulting. But when it came to Aithusa, his resolve only went so far. "Okay, but --"

"I get to pick!" Aithusa announced, and ran into the living room.

"If she can get you to cave in now, when she doesn't know how to use her powers for good, she's going to walk all over you when she's older," Merlin remarked.

"Oh, like you're one to talk," Arthur said. "Who let her get dressed in that monstrosity of a purple dress and _those_ horrendous socks this morning, hm? Who bought them for her in the first place?"

"I'm encouraging her individuality," Merlin defended.

"I'm teaching her to negotiate," Arthur said, shrugging.

Merlin chuckled and walked to Arthur. He took the napkins out of Arthur's hands, set them down, and turned Arthur around. Arthur's smile was curious, and he tilted his head as if he were about to ask what it was that Merlin wanted. Before Arthur could speak, Merlin leaned against him, put his hands on Arthur's face as gently as he could, because it was the most precious thing in the world to him, and pressed a kiss to Arthur's lips.

He'd promised himself -- he'd promised Arthur -- that he wouldn't say anything about the wedding. Not even when Arthur couldn't come up with a way to trick him. But the flowers…

If he wasn't allowed tell Arthur how much he loved them, how much the significance behind them meant to him, or even how overwhelmed he felt that Arthur had put so much thought and time into the act, then he would show him, even if it was only with a kiss.

He poured everything he felt in that kiss. Every ounce of love that he had. He tugged Arthur's lower lip, he licked teasingly across them, he kissed again, gentle and chaste, wet and warm and careful.

"Yuck!" Little hands tugged at Merlin's shirt. Merlin reached down, put his hand on top of Aithusa's head, and turned her around. Aithusa giggled and swatted at Merlin's arm. "Daddy! Dinner's getting cold!"

Arthur chuffed a laugh, returned Merlin's kiss, and pulled away. His eyes twinkled and he licked his lips but didn't pull away. He considered Merlin for a moment and asked, "What was that for?"

"I think you know," Merlin said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. 

Arthur frowned, shook his head as if he had no idea, but the proud little smile on his lips was a dead giveaway. He leaned in to kiss Merlin's cheek before turning to Aithusa. "How many slices do you want?"

Aithusa held up all ten fingers. Arthur put one slice on a plate, made sure Aithusa carried it with both hands before letting her head toward the dining room, and squeezed Merlin's hand. "Beer?"

"Oh, yeah," Merlin said.

They settled at the table, eating their first few bites in silence. Merlin watched Aithusa place fallen pineapple onto the remnants of her slice and asked, "Did you have a good day today, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," Aithusa said. She took another bite, but remembered to finish chewing before she spoke again. "I drew a picture at recess, but Matty stole it and said it was his. So I took his pudding and I ate it. Then he pulled my hair and pinched me and the teacher made us sit at different tables for class, but Matty snuck over and helped me during math --"

"Oh, boy," Merlin said, because he knew where this was going. He could see a future full of boys following Aithusa like lovestruck idiots, and he wasn't surprised in the least. He and Arthur were going to have their hands full, and the resigned expression Arthur was wearing made it clear that he wasn't looking forward to it.

They listened to her chatter on about school all through dinner and, for once, didn't ask her to clean up after herself if she would go change into her pyjamas for the movie. She scampered off with a squeak of excitement. Arthur cleaned up and Merlin took the ice cream out of the freezer.

"Leon knows the bracelet," Arthur said quietly. "Says she wears it a lot, but not to bed. Not always. He remembers seeing it during R&R about eight, nine months ago, so it fits the timeline. He asked her about it, but she never really answered him. He'll try to take it away from her as soon as she takes it off and he knows she won't notice."

Merlin nodded absentmindedly. He was sure that Arthur had arranged for an elaborate exchange program to make sure that the bracelet never touched human skin and didn't remain in any single person's possession for too long, in case it might affect them, too.

They settled on the sofa to watch -- _re_ -watch _The Little Mermaid_ \-- for what seemed to be the millionth time, Aithusa sitting like a queen on her throne on the little beanbag chair by the coffee table, watching the screen with enraptured attention, her ice cream temporarily forgotten. Merlin leaned against Arthur, neither of them speaking.

"You first," Arthur said quietly sometime toward the middle of the movie. Aithusa had long finished her ice cream and was laying on her belly on the bean bag, kicking her legs as if they were a mermaid's tail.

Merlin sighed, uncrossing his arms to rub the bridge of his nose. Arthur took his hand and pulled it down, intertwining their fingers.

"Honestly," Arthur said. "What do you _want_ , love?"

"A house in the country with a back yard big enough for a growing dragon Queen," Merlin said, thinking back to the four houses they saw the weekend before. One had been suitable, but Arthur declared it unfit for human survival when he saw how small the master bedroom was.

"We'll find it," Arthur said. "I notice you didn't answer the question. You're the one who wanted to talk."

"Yeah, I know," Merlin said, sighing. He glanced at Arthur. "All the cards on the table?"

"All of them," Arthur said with a nod. "Don't hold back."

Merlin hesitated, but more to give himself time to sort his thoughts than to stall for time. "I think I should take the position. I mean, I do most of it anyway, and for free."

"You do," Arthur said, a smile in his voice.

"I'm not a fan of the other responsibilities," Merlin said, shrugging. "I don't want to have to leave you two for diplomatic visits. I'd never be home. I _just_ got home. Then there's… There's the perception that if I'm working for the Queen, and I'm Aithusa's Dragonlord, Aithusa becomes the Queen's ward or… or under her control."

Aithusa stopped kicking, and she was still watching the telly, but she half-curled in her chair, her head turned as if she were listening to the conversation. Neither Merlin or Arthur kept anything from Aithusa -- she might be small in her human form and very much a child in every aspect, but there was a practical, inhuman intelligence behind those pretty blue eyes.

"If I take the offer, it'll have to be on my terms," Merlin decided. "If I travel, you two travel with me. We'll get a tutor to come with us, maybe Kathy can recommend someone. Or if I have to deal with other countries, they need to send their diplomats here. Aithusa's too young, and we've left her alone long enough. Not many appearances a year, a ban on Aithusa being in the public eye unless we approve it, and we make it clear that my first loyalty is to Aithusa, and I can't be used to get to her."

Arthur hummed quietly. Merlin recognized the sound as a sign that Arthur was thinking about it. He wasn't in the least surprised when Arthur said, "We could draft a list of your requirements."

Merlin sighed in relief at hearing the _we_ , because Arthur would be better at coming up with necessities than he would. There was also the other matter. "Aithusa has to be okay with it."

Aithusa turned in the bean bag chair and looked at him with such stillness that it was hard not to see the magnificent dragon she would become one day, particularly now that her scars were healing, her body was healthier than it had been, and she was allowed to explore and learn without fearing repercussions. Finally, solemnly, she said, "I know you'll keep me safe."

She turned back to the telly, kicking her legs again, as if it were as simple as that. Merlin was both relieved at her approval and cowed by the responsibility set on his shoulders, but it was no more than she had required of him from the very first moment they'd laid eyes on each other. He took a breath and elbowed Arthur gently. "You have to be okay with it, too."

Arthur made a nondescript noise. Merlin shifted in his seat to look at him with narrowed eyes, because random noises from Arthur were rarely a good thing. 

"Do you remember when we were summoned to the palace?" Arthur asked. He went on to answer his own question, because he damn well knew that Merlin remembered. "Well. After you left, I spoke at length with the coordinators, and expressed my concern that the knighting was just a publicity stunt to pull a fractured country together."

Merlin felt himself go blank. His voice was flat when he said, "You didn't."

"I may have made a few comments that I'm also under a great deal of pressure from political parties to throw my hat into the ring at the next election. Of course, I'd have to begin with a position commensurate with my lack of experience in politics, though it was made clear to me that they'd expect me to run for PM at some point."

"You didn't," Merlin said again, this time covering his face with his hands.

"I might've said that it seems a shame not to put my military experience to good use. There's only so much that I can do if, on one side, they're relying on publicity stunts and my pretty face to ease the concerns of all of Britain's citizens, and on the other, they plan on trotting me out as a mouthpiece to challenge the Crown any time the Crown does something they don't like."

Merlin groaned. He could just imagine how the others would have reacted to learning that Arthur was interested in being more than a token attempt at public relations in a society that was still heavily troubled by the emergence of active magic. They must have jumped over each other to come up with possible positions that Arthur could take, as Arthur demurred the offers while manipulating them into getting exactly what he wanted. "Did they even see you coming?"

"Not so much, no, I don't think," Arthur said, a smug undertone in his voice. He glanced at Aithusa before turning in his seat to face Merlin. "I received a call from them earlier this week. They said, if I accept being knighted without delay, and agree to a position in the Royal hierarchy, I should be able to accompany you and Aithusa on your diplomatic trips to represent the Crown in any negotiations that you need to make."

Merlin dropped his hands and looked at Arthur with wide eyes, because that wasn't what he'd expected. He'd thought Arthur might maneuver himself into a different kind of position altogether, or somehow manage to get everyone to forget about him after being knighted. If they would be able to stay together, to work together, to do anything they wanted together, that was far, far better than anything Merlin would have thought of.

"Really?" Merlin asked.

"Really," Arthur said. "I was… I was waiting to see what you'd decide before I told you about the offer. I didn't want you to feel as if you had to become the Royal Sorcerer for me."

"Is this what you want?" Merlin asked, frowning. "What if I'd said that I didn't want the job?"

"I wouldn't have brought it up with them if it wasn't what I wanted," Arthur said, leaning forward to take Merlin's hand again. "Being with you is everything I want. It just so happens that I'll be able to do that and do something I enjoy at the same time."

"Because that wasn't what you were angling for all along," Merlin said, unable to keep his smile from splitting his face. He sobered a moment later and regarded Arthur suspiciously. "Wait. What's the position in the Royal hierarchy? Are they turning you into a _noble_?"

"Oh, no, no," Arthur said. "Turns out my Mum does come from a line of Kings. Surprised everyone, even Uther, but he was never close to that side of the family. Apparently one of my uncles is being invited to the knighting ceremony. Technically, my blood is as blue as it gets these days."

"Don't avoid the question," Merlin said. "What position were you talking about?"

Arthur exhaled heavily and broke eye contact, the tips of his ears reddening. "Well. They're going to bring back an ancient position. They said it was fitting considering the circumstances."

"You're stalling," Merlin said.

Arthur winced. He motioned Merlin closer and whispered in Merlin's ear.

Merlin stared at Arthur for a long, long time before bursting into laughter. "You just had to have the job title that's better than mine, didn't you?"

**ooOOoo**

In the end, Gwen was the one who pulled it off.

"It's in my gym bag," Gwen said, shoving the duffel at Arthur, simultaneously moving him out of her way as she barged into the flat.

Wordlessly, Arthur closed the door and followed Gwen inside.

Gwen put a long white dress bag over the back of the sofa in the living room and headed straight for the locked cabinet where they kept the hard alcohol. She fished the key from the top shelf, took the whiskey from the cabinet, and drank it straight from the bottle. When she put it down, her hands were trembling.

Arthur put the gym bag on the kitchen island. He came over to Gwen and pulled her into his arms. He held her until she wasn't shaking so much anymore and drew away a little. He didn't ask if she was all right. She very clearly wasn't.

"She took it off for spin class," Gwen said, exhaling a slow breath. "She put it on top of her bag and turned away. I knocked it into my bag and she never saw. I thought she saw me. I swear she saw me. But all she did was smile and tell me she would beat me to the class and I put my bag in my locker and I've been worried ever since."

"You did a good thing," Arthur said, hugging her again. This time, he waited until she released a shuddering breath before letting her go.

"I know. If it's the bracelet that's making her do this, I have no regrets," Gwen said. She ran her hands over her hair to try to fix the frayed strands, tucking them into her ponytail. "I've never stole anything before."

"I wouldn't call it stealing," Arthur said, trying to be reassuring. "More like borrowing. Or re-appropriating. Let's call it a temporary loan. If we're lucky, we can replace it with a copy so that she never notices, or we return the original without whatever magic is on it."

"I know," Gwen said, biting her lower lip. Her shoulders slumped and she put her hands on her hips, looking off to the side. She shook her head. "I can't believe it, you know. Whatever it's doing to her. I can't… It's really not her. You should have seen her, after, when the class was over. She went on a tear, taking everything apart, going into other people's lockers. She shouted at the bathroom attendant, yelled at the manager, threatened to call the police --"

Gwen caught her breath and despaired.

"Arthur, are you sure that it's the bracelet?"

"At this point, I'm not sure what else it could be," Arthur admitted. "Gaius did say that whatever compulsion is affecting Morgana would linger for a while even when she's not wearing the bracelet. The longer she wears it, the longer it'll take for it to wear off. At least, until Merlin has a chance to look at it and remove the spell."

"It won't hurt her, will it?"

Arthur sighed. He'd checked with his contacts among the druids. He had Gaius check the Lore. Merlin had his associates in the Directory go through the library and review whatever they had on compulsions and charmed artefacts. They'd found several possibilities, but none of them were exact matches. Gaius had insisted that it was difficult to be absolutely certain until someone had the opportunity to examine the bracelet.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. Gwen went to sit down; he glanced at the whiskey bottle and poured a few fingers in a glass, offering it to her. She took it gratefully. "I wondered why she would keep putting on that monstrosity. It doesn't match anything she owns."

"It is the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Gwen admitted with a weak smile.

Arthur sat down on the coffee table across from Gwen and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Merlin thinks the compulsion is like a drug. It might make her feel good, or powerful, or euphoric. The longer she wears it, the harder it is to take off and the longer she can go without wearing the bracelet while still being affected by it."

"What if Merlin can't break the spell?" Gwen asked.

There was very little that Merlin couldn't do, in Arthur's estimation, but he didn't want to raise anyone's hopes. They had a plan B regardless. "Then we keep it away from Morgana as long as it takes until the spell wears off."

Arthur could tell that Gwen was wondering the same thing he was -- what if the spell never wore off? What if it was too late? Instead, she sipped at the whiskey, closing her eyes and pulling herself together. Her lips moved almost imperceptibly, but Arthur could make out repetitions of, _She's going to be okay. She's going to be okay._

Arthur certainly hoped so.

"So, what did I pick up for you?" Gwen looked curiously at the garment bag over the sofa.

Arthur glanced at it and promptly answered, "Dry cleaning."

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Except that wasn't your usual dry cleaner, it doesn't feel like it's a suit, and I recognize the logo on the bag. I'm pretty sure you don't shop for bridal --"

"Shush," Arthur said, scowling at her.

"Oh!" Gwen said, her eyes round with understanding. "It's for Aithusa! Is that her dress? Can I see?"

"No!" Arthur leaped over the coffee table and snatched the garment bag out of Gwen's reach. He winced when he felt the dress inside crinkle under his rough handling and very carefully held it up, though he kept it out of Gwen's reach. 

"It's her dress!" Gwen exclaimed, clapping in glee.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Arthur said. "I'm going to go put my dry cleaning away."

He darted up the stairs and headed into the master bedroom, where carefully putting the garment bag inside another garment bag, hanging it in the furthest corner of the closet where Merlin would never, ever look. He patted it down, sorted his clothes carefully to cover up any hint of what he'd hidden, and shut the closet doors.

He heard Aithusa's and Merlin's voices downstairs, breathing a sigh of relief for his quick action, because if he'd waited another minute longer, Merlin would have caught him red-handed and Aithusa would have insisted on seeing the dress, even trying it on. Arthur already knew that he would cave the second she pouted and asked to see it. It was best if she didn't know it existed until the day of the wedding.

Aithusa was chattering away at her Aunt Gwennie, showing her the picture she'd painted during art that day in school. Merlin smiled indulgently at her antics while picking up the coat she'd thrown on the ground and putting it away. Arthur intercepted Merlin when he emerged from the front closet and kissed his cheek.

"The bracelet's in Gwen's gym bag," Arthur murmured. Merlin nodded with a quiet hum but appeared unconcerned. Arthur might not have any magic of his own, but he would really rather that the bracelet weren't in close proximity to their daughter. 

He needn't have worried, because Aithusa dragged Gwen to her bedroom to show her all the other pictures she'd painted that week. Merlin took the opportunity to fish through Gwen's gym bag, extricating the bracelet with a silk handkerchief all of the team had taken to carrying with them since the plan to steal the bracelet from Morgana had been put in place. By the time Aithusa had returned with a somewhat calmer Gwen, the bracelet was secured in a lead vault lined with silk and locked behind the door of Arthur's home office.

"Is Auntie Gwennie staying for dinner?" Aithusa asked.

"Oh, honey, not tonight," Gwen said, kneeling down. "It's time I got home to my little one. Your uncle Lance has homework to do."

Aithusa started to pout, but the pout became a disgusted face. "Ew. Homework."

"Is he still struggling with the examinations?" Merlin asked.

"He's second-guessing himself," Gwen said with a sigh, shouldering her bag after an eyebrow exchange with Merlin to confirm that the bracelet was gone. "You'd think, after all those years in the army and spending his free time with MASH…"

"Mum was the same way," Merlin said. "Kept reminding herself that she wasn't in combat anymore. She's still enlisted and works for a veteran hospital, so it's not the same thing, but I can't imagine it's easy for Lance right now."

"He has your Mum on speed dial. Did you know that? I feel I should be jealous, he calls her more often than he calls me," Gwen said with a small smile. "She's talked him down from the ledge a few times."

"I'm sure the paperwork's looks worse than it really is," Arthur said. He'd always wondered if he'd done Lance a disservice by having him join the team rather than to continue on as a medical doctor for the British army. Lance had always reassured him that it had been his decision, that he felt he could do more in the field than under the surgical tent. And he had -- saving the lives of countless people. Innocents, civilians, their own personnel, other members of the military, whether they were domestic or foreign.

Arthur wished that he'd had more contacts in the medical field to make it easier for Lance to transition, but any hospital who didn't recognize the benefit of having Lance on their staff wasn't a hospital that Lance would want to work for, anyway.

"He's already resigned to doing surveillance rounds again, as if his cumulative time in the army didn't count for anything," Gwen said, rolling her eyes. "I keep telling him that it won't be that bad, but he won't believe me. Your mother's a godsend, Merlin. If she weren't helping him, I think he would've given up weeks ago."

"She's sending him cookies, isn't she?" Merlin asked, his eyes narrowed. Arthur snorted, holding back a laugh, because Hunith's treats could motivate an entire army.

"Of course she is," Gwen said with a laugh. She gave Aithusa a hug. "Goodnight, bug. Be good for your dads, yeah?"

"Goodnight, Auntie," Aithusa said, hugging her back before releasing her and trotting off to the living room to watch the telly. 

Arthur thought to remind her that homework came before her cartoons, but he was a bad, bad parent, because he was going to use this later to get Aithusa to go to bed early.

The sooner she was asleep, the sooner Merlin could work on the bracelet.

"See you soon," Gwen said, kissing Merlin's cheek. Then, in a lower voice, she murmured, "Good luck."

"Brave girl," Merlin said, giving her a hug. Gwen startled, only to melt into the contact, still quite shaken by the experience. "Proud of you."

Arthur walked Gwen out of the flat and down the corridor to the lift. They waited for it to arrive in silence, and Arthur gave her a gentle nudge. "Thank you."

"She's my best friend," Gwen said. "I'd do anything for her. I just felt so, so bad that she threatened to get the attendant fired for letting someone steal her things."

"I'll call the gym, sort it out," Arthur said, feeling guilty, too. If only he'd noticed what was happening with Morgana sooner, if he'd _paid attention_ , this wouldn't have happened. He could only hope that the blowback and the damage caused by whoever was controlling Morgana wouldn't be too difficult to repair. "It'll be fine."

"I know," Gwen said. She pulled herself together with a gracefulness that Arthur admired, her shoulders straightening, her chin up. Her smile was firm and genuine, even if her eyes were sad. She patted Arthur's cheek. "Don't forget to take care of yourself. Don't think we don't see how you always put everyone else first. It's your turn."

"Taking care of everyone _is_ taking care of me," Arthur said with a smile. He hugged her gratefully before letting her step into the lift. He waited until she was gone before texting Maurice, Oliver's night-shift counterpart at the security desk to the building, to make sure to have a secure cab waiting for Gwen.

Merlin must have wrangled Aithusa away from the telly with promises of chicken nuggets and all the plum sauce her heart desired, because she was at the kitchen island, her legs kicking out from the too-tall stool, studiously scrawling her answer to the first question in her notebook. Arthur switched the telly off, found one of Aithusa's shoes under the coffee table and the other wedged beneath a pillow on the sofa, and locked the whiskey back up, taking Gwen's glass with him to the kitchen to rinse out and wash.

"Is Gwen all right?" Merlin asked.

"She will be. I think she's stronger than all of us put together, actually," Arthur said. He started to reach for the tomatoes to help Merlin with the salad he was putting together when his phone buzzed with a text. 

_Cover 4 me. Told M Im taking u out 4 drinks prob staying @ yours after. Can't deal with her rn. Im at mum's._

Arthur sighed. After hearing Gwen's description of Morgana's reaction when her bracelet went missing, Arthur had thought this would happen. He was glad that Leon wasn't staying in the hot zone, because he was too soft-hearted when it came to Morgana, and he couldn't exactly defend himself with a broken arm. There was a chance that whoever was controlling Morgana could still do so without the bracelet, and Arthur hadn't wanted Leon to take the risk. Arthur replied to confirm, told him not to worry, and sent a second text message to Will, who was on shift that night to keep an eye on Morgana to let him know.

At Merlin's curious look, Arthur shook his head and put his mobile away. "Leon's taking me out for drinks and staying with us tonight."

Merlin scooped the red peppers and put them on top of the salad. "Hiding out at Perce's and Gwaine's?"

"His Mum, actually," Arthur said, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth. He winced inwardly. "I hope she understands that it's not _Morgana_ who hurt Leon, or it'll be awkward between them for the rest of their lives."

"Yeah, I…" Merlin paused to put the baking sheet of chicken nuggets in the oven next to the lasagna that Arthur had prepared earlier. "That's going to take some explaining."

Arthur didn't miss how Merlin's eyes drifted toward the locked office door. "I'll finish dinner if you want to start working --"

"I was thinking of going over to Gaius' when Aithusa goes to bed, actually," Merlin said. "It'll go faster with the two of us."

"Oh, he's in town?" Arthur feigned ignorance.

Gaius split his time between his house in London and Camelot. Whenever he was in London, Gaius tutored young children and teens in the use of their magic while simultaneously teaching them how to build robots -- a frightening combination, as far as Arthur was concerned. In Camelot, he did much the same, though it was more in collaboration with Kathy, Mordred, and the Druids, who were setting up an official sort of curriculum to teach young initiates in a more structured environment, since there were too few Druids to teach and too many candidates to continue the singular Mentor-Student relationship that had been common practice for generations.

"Oh, don't even pretend you don't know the reason he's in town," Merlin said with a scowl. He poked the air with a knife to compound his point.

Arthur grinned, doing a poor job of covering it up with an, _I don't know what you're talking about_ frown, and popped another cherry tomato into his mouth.

"Oi, those go in the salad," Merlin said mildly, returning to his chopping. "Also, the Knighting Council, or whatever you call them? They rang me earlier."

Arthur coughed when the tomato juices went down the wrong pipe. "They what? Why?"

"Something to do with trying to get you to commit to a date," Merlin said, raising an eyebrow. Arthur shrugged. The Queen wanted to have the ceremony quickly, while Arthur wanted it after the wedding. Arthur could only agree to disagree with the demands set by the Queen's aides, and he was running out of excuses. "Also, they were wondering if I would allow them to use the sword for the knighting."

" _The_ sword?" Arthur asked, glancing over his shoulder.

As far as either of them were concerned, in Excalibur's expanded armoury, there was only ever _one_ sword. It was the longsword that Merlin had liberated from the basement of a Directory-controlled building, the plain blade with elaborate script that had no history and no translation, the very same one that Merlin had given to Arthur because…

Well. Just because. Merlin had never given Arthur any explanation why, and Arthur didn't press for one. All that Arthur knew about the sword was that it was right for him to bear it, and that he should strive to always be worthy. It was a feeling, nothing more, and one that he embraced wholeheartedly despite it all, that it was no one else's sword but his, to be passed on to another only at his will.

Arthur had carried it in combat only a few times, and only when the forces opposing them couldn't be injured by any other weapon short of a hydrogen bomb. No one knew the sword's origin, the blade itself had never undergone any sort of special examination, and despite its simple length and unadorned hilt, it seemed that all who saw the sword understood that they couldn't stand against it for long.

No one was certain why. The dragons were quite mum on the subject.

"Mhm-hm," Merlin said, rubbing his forehead and frowning as if he were forgetting something. Then, with a start, he reached for the refrigerator, searching through all the condiments until he found Aithusa's plum sauce. "Something about wanting to make sure that it wouldn't cause anyone irreparable damage if it's used, that's all. I told them that short of the Queen slipping and slicing your earlobe, or giving you a closer shave than you're accustomed to, everything should be fine, but really they should be asking your permission, not mine."

"I haven't heard from them," Arthur said, resisting the urge to check his messages. He had a few missed calls, and he hadn't looked at his email in a couple of hours. Frowning mostly at the thought of getting his throat nicked, Arthur glanced at Merlin. "Would there be --?"

"Don't be daft," Merlin said, pulling out the glasses to set the table. Arthur took them out of his hand to fill with water, leaving out the ice in Aithusa's glass because she had an annoying habit of eating the cubes like they were food, and the crunching sound drove both Arthur and Merlin mad. "I wouldn't have said it's fine if it weren't. And, in any case, it won't be the first time that a…"

Merlin trailed off, his eyes blank, suddenly motionless.

It was there and gone in an instant as Merlin continued, "… prospective knight gets knighted by his own sword."

His tone changed toward the end, turning dubious and thoughtful. Arthur gave Merlin a moment to sort himself and went to put the glasses on the table. He peered over Aithusa's shoulder and asked, "Are you having trouble with number five?"

"Noo _ooo_ ," Aithusa said, crossing her arms over her work defensively. "Go away, papa. I'm working."

Arthur chuckled and ruffled her hair. Aithusa liked puzzling through her homework on her own, and when she had trouble, she was never shy about asking for help. She was conscientious about dividing the problem subjects between Arthur and Merlin equally, though why she insisted on coming to Arthur with the science questions, Arthur would never know.

Arthur returned to the kitchen to find Merlin taking the plates out of the cupboard. Arthur put a hand on Merlin's hip and murmured, "Where did you go?"

The visions had never completely gone away, though they had severely decreased in frequency since the incident on the bridge. The slightest thing could trigger them -- a scent, a particular shadow, an action, a phrase. Something Merlin had said must have brought one of those visions to the fore.

Merlin offered a small smile and shook his head. "Nowhere bad."

"That's the first one you've had since leaving the service?" Arthur asked, taking the plates out of Merlin's hand and bringing them to the table.

Merlin took the cutlery out of the drawer and followed, grabbing napkins along the way. "Shockingly, yes. Also, you're avoiding the issue. They want the knighting to be done soon. You realize you can only make the Queen wait on you for so long before she gets tired and throws you in prison for treason?"

"It won't be for treason," Arthur said with a scoff.

"It'll be for _something_. Aggravating the royal household, maybe. Disrupting the royal schedule. Being a royal prat in the royal arse. I don't know," Merlin said.

"Language," Arthur said, glancing pointedly at Aithusa, who looked as if she were trying to decide if _prat_ and _arse_ were swear words.

Merlin rolled his eyes and put two pounds in the swear jar anyway. "Will and Kay watched her the other day. She's heard much worse. Haven't you, Aithusa?"

"Yes, daddy," Aithusa said, looking up with her big blue eyes, solemn and serious. Her brow furrowed in concentration and she went back to her work, the tip of her tongue sticking out.

"We already did a shop. I have a proper suit, for once, and maybe it won't get wrinkled on this go-round. Aithusa already picked out her dress and set it on top of her dollhouse so that she doesn't get it dirty, but at this rate, it's going to get dusty before she gets a chance to wear it. I don't know why you keep putting it off --"

"Just a little longer," Arthur said. 

Merlin gave him a soft look that was almost as awful as Aithusa's little pout. Arthur felt himself caving in even before Merlin could ask the question he wanted to ask. 

"I don't want that to be between us before we get married," Arthur said.

"Arthur --"

"I'm getting the knighthood because of everything the team did during the war. I don't see why I'm the only one to get it --"

"You're getting the knighthood because of everything you did during the war. You, Arthur. If your counterargument is that you wouldn't be where you are without us, that's true, but you're forgetting an important part. We wouldn't have been able to get you where you are without you." Merlin's expression was earnest, his tone heartfelt, and deep down in that place where they were bound, Arthur felt an indescribable warmth that robbed him of words.

The timer for the chicken nuggets beeped, and Arthur took that to make his escape. Unfortunately, Merlin followed after him, nudging him away from the oven and pinning him against the kitchen counter. An amused smile touched his lips. "Look at you. At a complete loss for words. I need to do that more often."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur muttered.

Merlin's smile became a smirk. "All right. I won't push anymore, but you have to answer me one question first."

"What," Arthur said, crossing his arms.

"We both know this is happening whether or not you want it to happen. The question is, do you want to get it over with before the wedding or would you rather jump through hoops after we get back from the honeymoon?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, even though he didn't really have an actual answer to the question. Before he could say anything, Aithusa shouted, "Daddy! My nuggets are burning!"

"Oh, no, I'd better get them. We can't let your nuggets burn!" Merlin winked at Arthur and backed away. He found the pot holders, cancelled the timer alarm, and removed the baking sheet and the lasagna from the oven, leaving them on the stove to cool. When he turned toward Arthur again, it was with an expectant look.

"Fine, before," Arthur said through gritted teeth, but only because he didn't want anything to spoil the wedding and the honeymoon. Having the proverbial Damocles' sword of knighthood hanging over his head for the duration would be a distraction that would haunt him every minute he wasn't busy distracting himself and Merlin with reasons neither of them should leave their suite.

"It's an honour," Merlin reminded him, lightly swatting at the back of his head.

Arthur scowled. He knew it was. He shouldn't be belittling it like this. There were many other people who had been knighted and it was flattering to be allowed in their ranks. But Arthur didn't feel that he had done anything special. He had been a soldier in the country's army, and he had borne arms in its defence, no different than countless others who had stood, brave, against unyielding and unfathomable forces. He felt strange, being pushed to the forefront, when so many others had fought alongside him and deserved recognition, too.

"I'll call tomorrow," Arthur said, helping Aithusa put away her homework so that they could have dinner. "Have it done next week."

Merlin glanced up at him but made no comment. The wedding was soon, and Arthur wanted to get it over with so that he could focus on more, important things. 

Like the rest of his life with Merlin.

Dinner was quiet and largely without any incident. Aithusa finished all of her nuggets without sharing and took a large portion of lasagna, but completely eschewed the salad. Merlin had had a hard time keeping a straight face when she'd explained, _"But, daddy, if chicken eat green stuff and I eat chicken, why do I have to eat green stuff too when I'm eating it by… by… by proxy?"_

She'd looked so proud of herself for the argument that neither Arthur nor Merlin wanted to contradict her.

 _"I can't argue with that logic,"_ Arthur had said, pointing his fork at Merlin and mouthing, _Your dragon_.

 _Will's fault_ , Merlin mouthed back.

Putting Aithusa to bed later was an exercise in patience, since she neither wanted to bathe, wear her pyjamas, or sleep. They'd compromised and allowed her to wear a pink tutu on top of her pyjamas, and bargained her down to two bedtime stories if she promised to close her eyes while they read the second book. By the end, Merlin was exhausted, Arthur was ready to crash, but Merlin found the energy to call Gaius, get his coat on, and collect the lead box.

"I won't be long," Merlin said, doubling back at the front entrance to give Arthur a quick kiss. 

"Don't rush, and be careful. If you stay late, crash on Gaius' couch. I don't want you doing something stupid," Arthur said.

"As usual?" Merlin teased.

"Yes, as usual," Arthur said, smacking Merlin on the arse. He waited until the lift carried Merlin away before locking up and setting the alarm. The telly was set to low volume as he watched the news, only half-listening to the announcer as he went through the contracts he didn't finish working on at the office.

He woke up some time later to the sound of the lift chiming, and it was such a familiar, non-threatening noise that he came to slowly, checking the time. It was well past midnight, and the sleep mode had been activated on the telly. His laptop was on the coffee table, his notebook under his palm, and --

There was a knock. 

Arthur's reflexes had him moving before he was fully conscious of doing so, reacting to the unexpected visitor by reaching up on the cabinet where they kept emergency weapons out of Aithusa's reach and pulling a loaded clip from a drawer.

Another knock.

"Arthur, are you there? Leon?"

Arthur froze. It was Morgana's voice.

"Leon, I need you," Morgana called. "You're not answering your mobile. Neither is Arthur --"

Arthur took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. There were a few missed calls, but none of them were from Morgana's number. The only text was from Merlin. _Almost have it figured out_ , it said.

"Arthur! Leon! I can hear you moving around in there!" The insistent knocking became a loud, angry battering that continued at a steady pace. Arthur was glad they were on the top floor, because that meant they didn't have any neighbours.

"I can hear you! Don't you ignore me! Leon! I'm your wife, get your arse out here right now! I never told you that you could go out tonight!"

Movement out of the corner of his eye proved to be a frightened Aithusa coming down the steps hesitantly, Sebastian the Moose clutched tightly against her. Her hair was a fright, her pyjamas askew, the pink tutu bent at the waist, but the look in her eyes was determined. She descended silently, bare feet on floor, and came up behind Arthur, taking his hand.

She clutched his fingers so tightly that Arthur saw stars, but he didn't shake her off.

The pounding stopped, but the door continued to rattle. Morgana was screaming unintelligibly, and only occasionally could Arthur make out his name or Leon's. The lock groaned against an unseen force, the doorknob continued to turn, and the door bowed in the middle, where it glowed brightly.

Arthur felt his heart jump into his throat. A threat was coming into his home. His hand tightened around the grip of his gun. His finger was comfortable on the trigger. He struggled to think beyond defending his position, to remember that his sister was on the other side of the door, that someone was using her as a weapon, possibly thinking that he wouldn't defend himself against her. But he'd do more than defend his home. He'd protect Aithusa with his life. Aithusa was his daughter, she was a _child_ , and she'd been through enough in her short life. She didn't need any more trauma.

Arthur nudged Aithusa toward the wall. He shoved his gun into his trouser pocket and pressed his hand on the carved sigils in the embedded oak. Merlin had promised that body heat would activate it, and the promise held true; the sigils flashed under Arthur's palm and all sound from outside the wards faded..

The door stopped glowing. It no longer vibrated as if it were about to collapse. The only way Arthur could know if Morgana was on the other side was to check the security cameras.

He didn't look. Instead, he scooped Aithusa into his arms. She clutched him tightly, burying her face in his neck, releasing a small breath of relief at the continuing silence. Arthur glanced back at the door -- at the wards -- and allowed himself to lower his guard. Merlin's wards had yet to be broken by anyone, and they certainly wouldn't be broken by some two-bit sorcerer who had to control an innocent person because they were too cowardly to show their faces.

He carried Aithusa up the stairs. "Do you want to sleep in daddy's and papa's room tonight?"

"No, papa. I want to sleep in my bed. I have all my dolls," Aithusa said, pulling the plush moose closer and hitting Arthur in the face with it. "But you can sleep in mine. I'll protect you until daddy comes home."

**ooOOoo**

Investitures were made several times a year. During the wartime, it wasn't unusual to have one out of the blue and on short notice, though there was usually less pomp and circumstance than on scheduled occasions. Still, even on a relatively spur-of-the-moment investiture, announcements were to be made, the proper invitations extended, all the required preparations had to be completed, and, of course, it had to sync with the Queen's schedule.

Arthur had requested a private ceremony for Aithusa's sake, not wanting her to be more overwhelmed than she already was in crowds of people she didn't know. The Lord Chamberlain had vetoed the requirement and offered a compromise. They were allowed to be _late_. Late on schedule, _as scheduled_ , and not a second more, their presence dogged by several aides who were following a simulcast and checking their watches in an obsessive countdown.

Arthur was not the only person to be awarded that day, but he was, in Merlin's opinion, the most important. His name and his face were well known to the public, and wherever Merlin was when he had been on assignment, too many people recognized _Arthur Pendragon_ and cleared the way. 

He didn't need to be Knighted. He was already as noble and as self-sacrificing as the Knights of old, if not more. It was a well-deserved honour that he was too stubborn to accept -- not because of pride, but because he believed that he hadn't done enough.

"Three minutes," an aide said.

Merlin glanced at Arthur. Arthur hadn't sat down once since they arrived, his nerves buried deep down the surface. He had his game face on, stoic and impassive, though he would soften and smile whenever Aithusa went to him, her little hand curling in his.

"Two minutes," a different aide said. "Positions, please."

Merlin crouched in front of Aithusa, who was singing softly in Dragontongue. He smiled when she patted his cheek the way she did when she wanted him to sing, too, and shook his head. "It's time, sweetheart. Do you remember what I told you?"

Aithusa nodded solemnly. Merlin ignored the aides shooting them a dark look. They'd wanted to practice with Aithusa to teach her what she needed to do, and they were willing to do it by rote if necessary. Merlin and Arthur had both stepped in. She might look like any other little girl, but there was a dragon under her skin, and hidden where no one ever saw was the heart of a Queen.

"Do you want to hold my hand?" Merlin asked.

Aithusa looked over Merlin's shoulder at Arthur, who was watching them with a little frown, as if he were about to break the rules, _again_ , and offer to walk in, hand-in-hand, with Aithusa. But then, just like Arthur, she straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders back, jutting out her chin with determination, and shook her head.

"I'll be right in front of you, okay?" Merlin said.

"I know, daddy," Aithusa said, rolling her eyes.

The doors opened, and Merlin tried to remember what _he_ was supposed to do. He walked into the bright room, staring straight ahead, ignoring the government officials, inductees, and several high-ranking members of the Royal family who stood on either side of the aisle. Cameras positioned around the room for the recording of the ceremony were attended by several self-effacing people in Royal livery, and the only member of the public present was Mickey and Julia, because Arthur had _promised_.

Mickey looked as if he were ready to vibrate out of his skin in excitement, his smile splitting his face as he struggled to remain still and respectful. Julia, on the other hand, had no more finesse now than she did when they'd first met, and she gave him the thumbs-up sign.

Merlin forced himself not to smile.

He bowed to the Queen and held the bow for the proper amount of time required by protocol before walking to the side toward the steel case covered with Merlin's protective enchantments. He was sure that the Queen's Royal Guard were crack soldiers who could kill their opponents with their little fingers, but Merlin would never take the risk that the sword would fall in enemy hands. He unlocked the case, the sigils glittering at his touch, and stared at the sword resting on red velvet for a moment, startled by the low, low hum of dragonsong.

The same song Aithusa had been singing in the waiting area.

Merlin picked up the sword, fingers under blade and hilt, and turned to the Queen. He felt, rather than saw, the tension in the Royal Guard, his magic rising up in response, ready to protect his family if it all went wrong.

Aithusa stood next to the Queen, prim and composed in a jewel-blue dress so deep it might as well be royal purple. Her position at the front of the room was an allowance made by the Lord Chamberlain for Aithusa's status as the Dragon Queen, representing and announcing the alliance that had been made between the two Queens. There was no need to mention that this alliance was restricted, at Arthur and Merlin's request, until Aithusa came of age.

An aide placed the knighting stool before the Queen and Arthur bowed to the Queen before he knelt, and --

_The Crown Prince had been on his knees like this once before, and would be on his knees twice more, he knew, when it would be time to do so. He had been but a wide-eyed boy the first time, his body aching from the blows he had received to remind him of his duty, too awed by the honour bestowed upon him to truly appreciate the rite of passage from squire to Knight._

_But the Sorcerer would hold the memory for him, as he would hold them all, silently swearing never to leave the man he'd loved since he was a child._

_The Prince wasn't a gangly boy anymore, still growing into his frame. He was a man with Tourney championships under his belt. A Prince who had led men into battle and emerged triumphant. He was a Prince become a King, grief making heavy a heart already wounded by the weight that came with such responsibility._

_The thin coronet was removed from his brow. The crown of the Kingdom placed upon his head. The sword taken from the Sorcerer's hands to tap one shoulder, the other. A repetition of oaths made by all the Kings before, that would be sworn by all the Kings to come._

_The new King stood, red cloak swirling around him, and faced his people. The old monk stepped aside, bowing deeply at the waist, and announced --_

"It is my pleasure to welcome Sir Arthur Pendragon to the Order of Bath. For his exemplary service to the country, I grant a position none have held since times of old, but upon which weights all the responsibility today as it did then, and name Sir Arthur Pendragon the Champion of the Crown and Defender of the Realm."

Merlin blinked the lingering images away to find Arthur watching him, but instead of a wondering look when he recognized that Merlin had had a vision, there was only understanding, as if he himself had seen the same thing. Merlin offered him a smile. Arthur returned it with a cocksure grin that was there-and-gone in an eyeblink as he rose to his feet and bowed to the Queen.

Merlin turned to place the sword in the case under the watchful eye of the Royal Guard, locking and securing it. He placed a hand on the case before one of the guardsmen could take it away, and triggered the wards to protect it.

He also made the protective case very, very heavy. The guardsman grunted when he tried to pick it up, giving up after a second attempt, because anything more would be embarrassing.

Behind him, Merlin heard a soft, familiar voice speaking the harsh syllables of the dragontongue. He turned around, alarmed, because Aithusa had _promised_ that she would behave, but then…

He noticed the look on the Queen's face. Even the Lord Chamberlain didn't appear surprised by Aithusa's interruption in the ceremony. It was as if they knew that it was coming, as if it were pre-planned and arranged --

Merlin blinked when he realized what she was saying.

The polite, dignified applause of the few in the audience abruptly cut off, though the Queen herself didn't seem surprised. The Royal Guard were tense and on alert, hands inching toward their weapon at any possible threat that might occur against their Queen. Habit, more than anything else, had both Merlin and Arthur raising a commanding hand to stop them, though their silent order went ignored.

Aithusa turned to Merlin and gave him an expectant look. He glanced nervously at the crowd and the cameras, and froze.

Toward the rear of the group was Major Kilgarrah and General Tachnathar, watching silently and sagely. They both nodded to confirm what Aithusa had said.

"Merlin?" Arthur prompted quietly, clearly sensing that it was something important.

Even Aithusa looked impatient. Merlin turned to Arthur and translated, "I recognize you as Champion of the Crown and Defender of the Realm of this land that Dragons have long named Albion. No dragonkin under my rule will challenge you and all will come to your call for aid."

Arthur stared between Aithusa and Merlin, feeling just as overwhelmed by the declaration. Even the Queen was surprised, though her expression turned canny when she realized the significance. Aithusa might have agreed, through Arthur and Merlin as her parents and the dragon council's assistance, to provide aid to the country in times of need, but the declaration made official the extent to which they would help if under Arthur's command.

The weight of the power offered was palpable in the way absolute silence settled in the room.

Aithusa held out her hand. She waved it impatiently when Arthur took too long to grasp her hand. Merlin wanted to laugh at the incredulous expression on Arthur's face when Aithusa pulled him down insistently; he finally got the hint and went to his knees again.

Aithusa spoke again in dragontongue, and Merlin translated, "Only once before in Dragon's memory has any other than dragonkin been granted this right. This Knight of old that we have known never betrayed our faith, just as we trust you would never betray ours."

She put her hands on Arthur's cheeks and bowed his head to press a kiss on his forehead --

 _The great white dragon spread wings that glistened like diamonds in the sunlight, casting them in shadow and guarding them from the flames of dying fires still burning on the quiet battlefield. The Queen bowed her head in a kindly, affectionate gesture, and_ breathed _a blessing of cool warmth upon the King's brow._

\-- and the room exclaimed in surprise when a glimmer of Aithusa's dragon form glittered in the air, fading in the blink of an eye.

"I hope I got that on tape," Julia murmured, breaking the silence.

"Shush," Mickey hissed.

Aithusa took a step back and turned to the Queen, curtsying. "Thank you," she said.

"Thank _you_ ," the Queen said, bowing her head. After a few more polite words that Merlin didn't hear, too busy watching Arthur rise to his feet, the Queen left, and the room slowly cleared away for the post-award celebration.

Aithusa peered past Arthur and searched out Kilgarrah and Tachnathar; she searched their expression earnestly, as if wondering whether she had done well, and when both men -- both _dragons_ \-- bowed to her, she smiled, big and bright and triumphant.

"I did it, papa," Aithusa said, using the knighting stool to launch herself into Arthur's arms. Arthur caught her easily, though he remained somewhat shell-shocked.

Arthur glanced at the door that the Queen had exited, a worried frown on his face. Merlin could only imagine what he was thinking -- it was probably much along the lines of what was going through Merlin's head right now. _What have you done, and what am I going to have to do to undo it?_

"You did, Aithusa, and you were perfect, even if I'm not entirely sure what it is that you've done," Arthur said.

"Don't be silly, papa. Daddy knows," Aithusa said, squirming until Arthur put her down. She went over to Kilgarrah and Tachnathar, touching both their brows with light fingers when they bent down to greet her, Dragon to Dragon Queen.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked again, walking closer.

"I'm not sure," Merlin said, even though the realization rang true deep down in his core. He searched Arthur's face and smiled faintly. "She blessed you. It's a big deal to them. More than anyone will understand."

Even Merlin wasn't certain he fully grasped the significance, not even after training with Balinor or listening to stories from other dragonlords. Maybe it was different for him, because of the kinship he had with the dragons and the bond he shared with Arthur, because it was just as a matter of course that, _of course_ , Merlin trusted Arthur implicitly, and why shouldn't anyone else?

But Arthur must have gathered what Merlin couldn't describe, because he watched Aithusa with the other Dragons with the protectiveness of a parent keeping an eye on their child, a wistful expression softening his features. For a moment, a brief moment, Arthur was faraway, lost in a vision that Merlin wasn't privy to, and when he returned, it was to dip his gaze to the floor with a funny sort of smile that Merlin couldn't interpret, and didn't need to.

Merlin squeezed Arthur's hand.

One of the attendants interrupted them to invite Arthur to a private audience with the Queen, which both of them interpreted as a request to _kindly explain_. Merlin rolled his eyes and waved Arthur off, hoping he had the words to explain what Merlin did not.

"How long have you been planning this?" Merlin asked Kilgarrah when they had a moment alone, watching Aithusa glow under Tachnathar attention. "I mean, I don't remember the last time you visited, so it couldn't have been since I came home. Plus, the Queen didn't look all that surprised…?"

Merlin trailed off, hoping that Kilgarrah would fill in the blanks. He rarely did. He was surprised when the dragon exhaled a breath that smelled of sulphur and woodsmoke and said, "A long time."

Merlin waited to see if there would be more, and had just about given up when Kilgarrah spoke again.

"The Queen reached out to the Council," Kilgarrah said, showing enough teeth in amusement that Merlin could only imagine the frightened ambassador who had been tasked to visit. 

The Dragons who had revealed themselves during the war had, for the most part, retained their positions in the military, in politics, and elsewhere, but the public perception was mixed between awe at their existence and distrust at their long, elaborate deceit. The Queen must have overcome whatever her initial feelings had been toward Dragons to decide their self-preservation over the centuries did not threaten humanity, or else they would have acted before now. Merlin could only imagine what message the Queen had sent to the Dragons, but it was clear that it had been done tactfully and with respect, or the events of the day wouldn't have unfolded the way they had.

"In the end, we follow Aithusa. We left the decision to her. The Queen was aware that Aithusa might give an answer today." Kilgarrah paused. He tilted his head and offered Aithusa a smile and a little bow of his head when Aithusa waved at him from across the room. "Her words were her own."

Anyone else might say that Aithusa had been coached. That a child wouldn't know to speak so eloquently or with such wisdom. Merlin hoped that the camera _had_ captured an image of Aithusa's dragon form, so that people would know and remember that, while she was still very young, she was very much a Queen.

Arthur emerged some time later unruffled and calm. He worked his way through the room, stopping to speak to all the others he came across. When he finally reached their gorup, he gave Merlin an enigmatic smile, shook his head to indicate everything was sorted, and cryptically said, "I think I had it easy."

"Sorry?"

"Oh, you'll see," Arthur said, tilting his head to indicate the Lord Chamberlain. "I overheard something about your nomination as Royal Sorcerer. I can't wait."

A heavy, dreading feeling sank to the pit of Merlin's stomach. "Wonderful."

They didn't stay long, mostly for Aithusa's sake, since she was still very shy around other people and the crowd were slowly getting braver in her presence. Kilgarrah and Tachnathar had kept most of the curious away, but now that they'd left to attend to their duties, there was only Merlin and Arthur to keep the gawkers at arm's length. Not even Arthur's reputation would keep them at bay for long, and most people were quick to forget the feats of magic was capable of doing.

There was a time when Merlin hid himself and his nature from the world. He never thought that he would ever be accepted for what he was. Some days, no one recognized him, and he was treated no differently than any other person on the street. Other days…

Merlin didn't like to think about the other days. He knew he had it easy compared to most magic users. He had friends and family who welcomed him with open arms and without reticence. Verbal abuse from frightened bullies he would never see again was nothing compared to what other sorcerers had to endure in their daily lives.

It would take time for the fear to go away -- for both the mundane civilian who worried for their safety and the innocent sorcerer who worried for their lives.

Merlin took possession of the sword once again, temporarily charming the case to lighten the load for transport. Arthur bundled Aithusa into her car seat, and once they were on the road again, they all sighed, one after the other, finally able to be themselves again.

"I'm hungry," Aithusa announced from the back.

"We're almost there, sweetheart," Merlin said.

The team -- over Arthur's objections and with Merlin's encouragement -- had put together a small get-together. It would be their first official sit-down since they'd all returned from their last assignments, because no matter what Gwaine said, the stag-do didn't count.

Close family and friends were invited, which meant the entire restaurant had been bought out for the evening, much to the proprietor's glee. Merlin knew that Arthur was looking forward to it, even if he didn't say it out loud. 

Arthur parked the car, barely catching an excited Aithusa, who unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled out of the raised seat in preparation for a mad run to get inside the restaurant, where she knew Bran would be. She refused to be carried, but graciously agreed to having her hand held. "I need an escort," Arthur told her. "I can't not have an escort. Who am I going to walk in with? Merlin?"

"I’m a much better escort than daddy," Aithusa said, though she cast a measuring glance over at Merlin. Then, with a firmer voice, she repeated, " _Much_ better."

"Wow," Merlin said, a hand on his chest. "I feel so loved."

"I love you, daddy," Aithusa said, her tone heartfelt, "but you drag your feet."

"Oh, well. That's all right, then, I suppose," Merlin said, meeting Arthur's laughing eyes. At his expression, Merlin… _melted_ , reminded once again that all this -- Arthur and Aithusa -- were _his_. His to keep forever and ever, if that was what fate had in store for him.

"Shall we go inside?" Arthur invited. The question was posed to Aithusa, but Arthur never took his eyes from Merlin.

"Yes, let's," Merlin said encouragingly, trailing behind them. 

He pulled at his tie only to remember that he'd already loosened it in the car. He couldn't wait to get out of his jacket, but that could wait until they were inside. Still, he smoothed down his vest, remembering the dull shock that had stayed with him for the entire day when he saw the price tag on his tailored suit. Arthur hadn't even blinked, waving it off with a pointed reminder that, _Right now, your net worth is nearly as much as mine. Once you finish the UAV and have it properly patented, I'm the one who's going to quit their job and stay at home. I've always wanted to be a kept man --_

Merlin smiled to himself at the memory.

"I shouldn't be worried that the others have something planned, should I?" Arthur asked, though he sounded as if he already knew the answer.

"I'd tell you that I have no idea, except you don't want me to lie to you, yeah?" Merlin asked.

"Lying is bad. Bran says so, even though he does it all the time," Aithusa said.

"See?" Merlin said, though he exchanged a glance with Arthur. They'd worried that Bran would be a bad influence on Aithusa -- Hell, _Will_ was a bad influence on Aithusa, and he babysat as much as he could -- but it turned out that Bran was the exact opposite, capable of settling her when Merlin or Arthur weren't there. They'd overlook a lot of Bran's antics as long as he continued to watch out for Aithusa.

Arthur's shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I'll grin and bear it, then."

"Take it like a man," Merlin said with a grin, clapping Arthur on the back.

As soon as they entered the foyer, Aithusa let go of Arthur's hand and ran past the two columns of members of Excalibur at attention. She collided with Bran, who was in the crowd of family and friends at the other end. Bran laughed and turned her around to watch as each man saluted Arthur, one after the other, and promptly went to one knee.

Someone toward the back -- Merlin couldn't tell who it was from where he was standing, slowly slipping out of the way -- turned the music on full blast, and Queen's _We Are the Champions_ burst through the restaurant. The group of family and friends swayed to the music, while the team snapped their fingers in rhythm to the beat before performing an elaborate on-their-knees dance involving clapping, slapping, and sinuous body movements.

Abruptly, Gwaine stood up in a smooth motion and, in perfect harmony, belted out,

" _We are the champions, my friends_  
_And we'll keep on fighting till the end_  
_We are the champions_  
_We are the --_ "

Lucan shoved Gwaine out of the way and picked up where Gwaine stumbled,

" _No time for losers_  
_'Cause we are the champions_  
_Of the world_ \--"

Lucan gracefully swept aside to present Mordred, who stepped in with a grin, 

" _I've taken my bows_  
_And my curtain calls_  
_You brought me fame and fortune_  
_And everything that goes with it_ \--"

Will clamped his hand on Mordred shoulders and took over,

" _It's been no bed of roses_  
_No pleasure cruise_  
_I consider it a challenge before the whole human race_  
_I ain't gonna lose_ \--"

Kay chimed in, just a little out of step with Will, to finish off the lyric,

" _And I need to go on, and on, and on, and on_ \--"

Then, all at once, every member of Excalibur sang,

" _We are the champions, my friends_  
_And we'll keep on fighting till the end_  
_We are the champions_  
_We are the champions_  
_No time for losers_  
_'Cause we are the champions_  
_Of the world --_ "

The refrain repeated, and the team froze in position, obnoxiously pointing at Arthur as the music died down and was turned off with a snap.

Arthur somehow managed to stay expressionless throughout the whole thing, blank, stoic, and unimpressed. After a few long minutes where the people who had joined them for the little party stopped laughing and exchanged uncomfortable glances, Arthur finally broke his silence by clearing his throat, releasing a long, heavy sigh, and asking, "Who taught you lot how to sing? That was _horrible_ \--"

The team tackled him.

Merlin laughed, jumping out of the way lest he be dragged into the congratulatory pile. Arthur's grin was infectious, because it spread through the team and among the others who had gathered around him as they hugs and quiet words. 

It had been a long time since Merlin had seen Arthur like this. Calm and content the way he could only be when he was surrounded by his loved ones and knew them to be safe. Merlin leaned against the bar, not wanting to interrupt, and drank in the scene. When Arthur allowed himself to be happy, it was truly a sight to behold. No one outside their social circle would ever know it, because Arthur hid it well, but when no one was looking, Arthur carried his emotions on his sleeve.

A warm weight jostled against Merlin's side and Merlin accepted the kiss to his cheek before turning to Morgana. Since he had last seen her, Morgana had changed. She was svelte and healthy, but there was a hollow to her, as if her strength had been gouged from her from the inside. Dark circles that refused to be covered by makeup hinted at sleepless nights, the twinkle in her eyes was dull and nearly completely faded, and her smile, though genuine, was guarded.

"Where have you been hiding?" Morgana asked, nudging him with her elbow. "We keep missing each other."

"Bad luck," Merlin said with a shrug. 

He could see traces of foreign magic lingering around her, warped sigils broken and slowly washing away like scrawled ink on skin. She was free of the spell, though no doubt she suffered the aftermath the way the ground trembled from aftershocks after an earthquake. The damage done to her aura was healing, and she was her own person again, but Merlin couldn't help the coldness that seeped into his tone.

She'd hurt Aithusa. She'd tried to drag her away for reasons that would likely never become clear. She'd tried to kill him and put members of Excalibur in harm's way more than once. Leon had already forgiven her for attacking him, accepting more easily than Merlin that Morgana hadn't been _Morgana_ at the time.

Being the one to unravel the spell did nothing to ease Merlin's concerns or completely absolve her from the actions done when she had not been in control of herself. She had been -- she still was -- the source of Arthur's greatest worry. For what wasn't the first time, and no doubt wouldn't be the last, someone had tried to use her to get to the rest of them. Merlin loved her like a sister, but he wasn't certain that he could trust that she wouldn't fall into someone else's clutches again.

She seemed to sense that, because her smile dropped a fraction and she looked away. Merlin winced inwardly, wondering if she would forgive them when they finally told her what she had, unknowingly, been through. If she would understand why they were no longer themselves around her.

"Nice bracelet," Merlin said, trying to distract her, to make amends.

Morgana latched onto the weak offering and her smile returned in full force. She raised her arm and touched the bracelet with light fingers. The bracelet wasn't much to look at -- heavy gauge stainless steel wire polished to a silvery sheen with flat, rose-water quartz stones washed to a mirror surface -- and clearly designed to be both unnoticeably ordinary and disastrously damaging. Evidence of taint was present in the ghost-white circles within the stones that hid the dark flecks of corruption.

"This ugly thing?" Morgana shook her head and studied the bracelet as if she didn't recognize it. "I found it on the bottom of my purse the other day. I don't even remember where I got it from."

"Maybe it was a gift?" Merlin prompted, trying to jog her memory.

"I'd hardly surround myself by people possessing such bad taste," Morgana said with a roll of her eyes, though her tone was light and teasing. A little furrow appeared on her brow, and she added, almost to herself, "I don't know why I was so upset when I thought I lost it."

"Can I get you a drink?" Merlin offered, not wanting her to dwell too much on it. It wasn't time for that yet, and her aura was still fragile. He waved the bartender over and ordered a red wine for Morgana and a Guinness for himself, shooting her a curious glance when her bracelet landed on the counter with a clatter.

"What?" Morgana asked, giving him an affronted look. "It clashes with my outfit."

"You're just leaving that, then?"

"I don't _do_ costume jewellery, Merlin," Morgana said with a wink. "I thought you knew that."

"Silly me," Merlin said. He offered her a weak smile. "What was I thinking?"

Morgana studied him quietly, a curious look overcoming her features. She pressed her lips together, turning away from him, and scanned the crowd. Merlin followed her gaze to where Aithusa was holding on to Bran's hand as if she expected him to run away, and was relieved by the soft smile on Morgana's face.

"I'm going to say hello to my niece," Morgana said. Then, maybe because she caught something in Merlin's expression, she added, "If that's all right."

"Of course it is," Merlin said, feigning nonchalance and ignoring the turmoil in his belly. Arthur and Merlin had explained to Aithusa that Morgana would never hurt her, that she had a bad day -- only to have Aithusa tell them, _I know that, and anyway, it wasn't Aunt Morgana_. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Morgana drifted away from him without another word. Merlin sipped his beer and waited until she was well away before palming the bracelet and handing it to Cennydd as he walked by. The bracelet would find its way into Olaf's repository, inert and useless, with no chance that the spell could be reconstituted. Short of someone casting a spell on it again, the bracelet was, as Morgana put it, nothing more than costume jewellery.

He glanced back into the crowd. He saw Cennydd whisper quietly in Mordred's ear, as Mordred glanced at Merlin to give him a serious nod. Leon watched his wife with unabashed fondness. Lance took his baby from Gwen's arms; she pecked his cheek before heading toward the Ladies'. 

Across the room, Arthur was surrounded by members of his team, but it was as if he had been waiting for Merlin to look at him.

He mouthed something that wiped all the concern from Merlin's expression. Merlin mouthed back, _Love you, too._

**ooOOoo**

"Late again?" 

Arthur sighed and rubbed his face. He nodded, even though Merlin couldn't see him. "I'm afraid so."

"That's the sixth time in three weeks, but all right," Merlin said easily. "I'll distract her with a b-a-t-h --"

" _I can spell, Daddy!_ "

"-- and ice cream. That should fend off the tantrum until you get home. Hopefully, I'll have our little Queen in bed, sound asleep, because she's going to need all her energy tomorrow. If she's too tired, we're just going to have to leave her at home."

Arthur huffed a small laugh when he heard Aithusa's indignant squawk in the background. From the splutter out of her mouth, it was almost as if she couldn't decide whether to be angrier at the implication that she would throw a tantrum or that she would miss out on any excitement. Or both. Knowing Aithusa the way he did, Arthur was willing to wager that she was equally upset at both the implication and being kept from anything.

" _But, Daddy!_ "

Arthur closed his eyes and listened. He could see the toys scattering all over the living room floor, Aithusa's scramble as she got to her feet to climb onto the sofa and into Merlin's lap, the way she buried her face in Merlin's neck when she was particularly pleading, apologetic, or clingy.

Her voice was muffled -- probably by Merlin's shirt -- when she said, "Papa, aren't you coming home?"

"I will, honey, but it's going to be late. I promise I'll come tuck you in even if you're asleep," Arthur said.

"Will you tuck Sebastian in, too?" Aithusa asked.

"I'll tuck Sebastian in, too," Arthur confirmed, resigned. No matter what he did, any movement involving the stuffed moose would wake her up, and he was sure to have a long hour of calming an excited Aithusa and getting her back to sleep again. He swore that it used to be easier to handle that ridiculous toy. It used to be _small_. Either someone on the team was secretly replacing it with bigger versions every week, or someone who wasn't Merlin was magically making it grow.

Vivid imagery of a full-sized stuffed moose with plush antlers poking at the ceiling of the flat -- or the country house they'd finally closed on less than a week ago -- haunted Arthur, and he sat up straight, rubbing his eyes. 

"You'll see me in the morning, I promise. And if you do everything your daddy tells you tonight, I will do everything I can to make sure you're not left behind tomorrow." As if they would dream of doing such a thing. Arthur, in particular, didn't dare, because a rather critical component of the next day's activities required her assistance.

Aithusa apparently decided to trust him, because she said, "Okay, Papa," and Merlin's voice returned to the line. "I hope you know she's going to be awful in the morning."

" _Daddy! Oh, my GOD,_ " Aithusa said, sounding so much like Bran that Arthur laughed.

"She'll be fine," Arthur said with a smile. "We both will. And I'll be home by midnight, no later. If I finish these contracts, I don't have to think about work for a month."

"Morgana can't handle them?" Merlin asked.

"She doesn't want to," Arthur said with a sigh. 

Morgana had practically held a gun to Arthur's head when she found out the extent to which she'd been controlled and the damage she had very nearly done to the company. Despite being a weapons manufacturing company, Pendragon Consulting had become involved in far too many humanitarian charities since the war ended for Morgana to ever put all the good they had been doing at risk. She had made Arthur sign the paperwork removing her of all significant authority over the company.

Morgana retained her position. There was no way anyone could take away her power, but she had warned Arthur she would quit outright unless he promised to review any decisions she made before they became final. Arthur didn't want to deal with the hassle of finding her replacement this close to the wedding, if finding a replacement for someone like Morgana was even possible, so he'd agreed.

He figured, ten months to a year from now, she would get so sick of having to wait for Arthur's approvals that she would make him sign another piece of paper restoring her authority. He'd sign it, and there wouldn't be any need to put a gun to his head.

"Your people really wait for the last minute for these things, don't they?" Merlin groused. "The day before your holidays."

"There's a tersely-worded email in the works addressing exactly that lack of efficiency," Arthur said, absentmindedly scrolling through the text he'd already written so far. The statement, which explicitly threatened imminent doom and death, had been rewritten three times: once to change it to a mere _firing_ , and twice more in an attempt for diplomacy. Arthur was giving it up as a lost cause.

" _Tersely-worded_ ," Merlin mocked. "I'm sure that'll have them quaking in their boots."

"Shut up, _Mer_ lin," Arthur said, unable to keep the smile from his lips. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, letting the sound of Merlin's laugh envelop him.

A long silence followed, only to be filled with Aithusa's background nattering and Merlin's responses. After a minute, Merlin returned to the line. "This isn't for that special project, is it?"

"I wish," Arthur said with a sigh. And he really did wish that it were. 

That special project had been looming over all their heads for weeks, now, and he had wanted it to be taken care of before he moved on to the next stage of his life with Merlin. He supposed that he could live with knowing the special project was unfinished, at least for now, but if it interrupted their honeymoon, he would find a way to rain Hellfire and damnation on the earth.

He was certain Merlin would help with that.

"Just a small mountain of contract work to review for revisions. I'm not sure if Legal was even listening at the last meeting, because they mangled the new clause I asked them to put in, and now I have to fix it. That shouldn't take me too long, but I also need to finish the last touches on the merger," Arthur said. 

_Merger_ was a polite word for what was effectively an aggressive hostile takeover of Cenred King's company. Scotland Yard had received anonymous tips from MI-5 leading to evidence tying King himself with the direct sale of weapons to enemies of the Crown. In their investigation, they found enough to charge him with embezzlement and patent theft. The arrest had been highly publicized, resulting in a sharp nosedive of company stocks.

Arthur would have left the company to flounder and to be bitten apart by the sharks if not for Cenred's involvement in robbing Pendragon Consulting's databases. 

When he learned that foreign weapons manufacturing companies were sniffing around the company with the intent of taking Cenred's patents elsewhere and close down the English factories, Arthur stepped in for two reasons. He couldn't let patents to weapons that were in use by the British Army fall to foreign powers, and he couldn't stomach the idea of countless of people losing their jobs in an economy that was recovering from war-time recession and subsided in a fragile state.

He knew the government would never allow a foreign company to acquire sensitive access to militarized information and that they would have blocked the sale, but they wouldn't do anything for the people who had worked for King.

The takeover and merging King's company under Pendragon Consulting was only good for everyone in the long run. 

"I'll make a plate for you, if you're hungry when you get home," Merlin said.

"Ah, no need. I've ordered delivery, it should be by anytime. Just make sure you're facing the other way when I come to bed," Arthur said cheekily. "We're not supposed to see each other."

"If you're going to be a stickler for tradition, maybe you should find somewhere else to sleep tonight," Merlin said, and Arthur could hear Merlin's raised brow in the tone of his voice. "That couch in your office, for one."

"It's lumpy," Arthur complained. Then, softer, he added, "I'll be home before midnight, whether I finish this or not."

"Finish it, and come home when you're done," Merlin said. "I know you. You'll either run off to work in the morning to take care of loose ends and be late for _whatever it is we're doing tomorrow_ \--"

Arthur grinned. To avoid any publicity, whenever the subject was brought up, Merlin pretended he didn't know they were getting married again, never mind where and when. Merlin was also good at catering to Arthur's idiosyncrasies, because he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary when Arthur couldn't be subtle about it. It made him feel funny in his chest, as if his heart were swollen with delight.

"-- or you'll be thinking about it the entire time we're on _holiday_ ," Merlin finished, a special emphasis on the last word. Arthur shivered.

"Before midnight, and no longer. It'll be finished by then. I should start on it, first," Arthur said. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Merlin said. "Call before you come home, yeah?"

"I will."

Dinner delivery came just as Arthur's personal assistant was putting away her critical files and getting ready to go. Arthur knew from experience that the majority of the administrative side of the company would be clearing out of the building, soon, while the technical side, located in the basement and the extended building across the block, had a tendency to forget that _end of the day_ meant _go home and sleep_. Arthur wouldn't be alone, though he was likely to be the last one to leave.

He ate take-away Thai while poring over the contracts and marking sections for revisions, taping pre-printed notes with paragraph corrections on the parts that Legal hadn't changed properly. It was nearly ten o'clock with the faint sound of a vacuum cleaner in the distance before Arthur placed the last contract off to the side for his personal assistant to deal with in the morning.

Arthur cracked his neck. He rolled his shoulders. A splash of cold water to his face wasn't enough to refresh him. He found half a carafe of cold coffee in the staff kitchen and reheated a cup in the microwave. It was sharp and bitter and _too hot_ on his tongue, but years of using caffeine to keep himself going also meant that the paltry cup wasn't enough to do much more but promise a severe crash later, at the worst possible time.

He walked around to get the blood going. Most of the offices were dark -- a desk lamp here, a computer monitor there. He turned them off and shut office doors behind him as he went, tilting his head when he realized --

It was a large floor. There was a lot of carpet and he didn't hear the vacuum cleaner anymore.

Arthur continued to move, checking out every office carefully before closing the door. The more progress he made, the more he became convinced that one of two things had happened. The night cleaners had forgotten equipment, because he had yet to come across a vacuum, and had left to get more.

Option number two was that his special project was about to be completed. Finally.

He finished his route, hyperaware of his surroundings, but didn't encounter anything out of the ordinary. He did find the vacuum cleaner next to the lift, still plugged in, a cart nearby missing several cleaners. Still, that didn't mean anything. He headed back to his office after another wary walk around, and focused his attention on the takeover paperwork.

A distant _click-creak_ caught his attention, but he stayed where he was, ignoring the rush of adrenaline.

Arthur managed four pages of notes before he heard another creak. He finished the document and added a few more comments at the end. He dropped the pen and watched it roll away, shifting slightly to mask how he was going for his gun.

"Don't," a woman said. 

Given the way that the spell worked, Arthur had half-expected that a stranger would find their way to him. Given that she'd always sent someone else to do the dirty work despite his past attempts to lure her out, Arthur hadn't expected to recognize the voice, but he did his best to be unsurprised when he looked up.

"Hello, Morgause." Arthur studied his visitor. "You've looked better."

She had.

Her cheeks were sunken, and her heavy makeup was as much to cover how sickly she was than to accentuate her sharp features. Morgause's hair was like straw, pulled back in a greasy ponytail, the pale blonde growing out into blotchy brown.

Grey trousers. A long-sleeved shirt. Coarse cleaner's vest in sunflower yellow with a honeybee logo.

It was likely that Morgause had attacked one of the workers to obtain a vest and access keys, but still, Arthur made a mental note to have security evaluate the cleaning company that serviced all of the Pendragon locations. If their HR department was taking shortcuts with background checks, Arthur was going to have to know. On the other hand, if someone had been bribed or threatened to let Morgause through, clearly, they were going to have to implement regular security protocol training. 

Morgause seemed to be at a loss for words now that Arthur had stopped his creep toward the gun holstered beneath his desk. A mad light shone in her eyes and her mouth was twisted around a snarl.

"Clearly, you have me cornered. Aren't you going to crow? Take a moment and tell me how I went wrong in my attempts to stop your grand plan?"

"I'm going to kill you," Morgause said. Her voice was strangled, hoarse. And yet, she remained where she was, frozen in the doorway, as if conscious of the wards that lined the inside of the doorway and unwilling to test them. Arthur glanced over her form, but he didn't see a weapon. Not in her hand, not on her person. 

He wasn't an idiot. He knew how well trained she was. He knew about her magic. If she really wanted to kill him, she would have to come through to a warded zone where she would have no advantage over Arthur.

"This is your moment. Why waste it?" Arthur taunted. "All your hard work, destroyed because of my interference. You could have been High Priestess in a New World, with countless young women at your knees in worship and study. How many Daughters would be walking by your side to fan the flames of a cult that judges others without mercy if it wasn't for me?"

Arthur took his gun from beneath his desk. Morgause hissed but did nothing. _Could_ do nothing.

Arthur stood up and walked around the desk. He removed the safety on his weapon with the flick of his thumb and spread his hands. "Haven't you anything to say to me?"

Morgause bared her teeth.

"Let me start it for you," Arthur said, taking slow, deliberate steps closer to the doorway. "I hate you, Arthur Pendragon. You destroyed everything that was good and blessed in the world. We would have brought peace and unity and balance, and everyone would have been happy as serfs to our new liege lords. Imagine where we could be right now if you hadn't gotten in the way. For that, you deserve to die."  
 Arthur stopped well short of the door, leaving plenty of room to move if necessary. He wasn't going to be pulled out of his office -- he wasn't stupid -- but that didn't mean that Morgause couldn't try to come after him if she felt brave enough. Even without her magic, Morgause was deadly, but she must have recognized that she wasn't particularly fighting-fit at the moment because she remained where she was.

If glowers could kill --

Arthur smirked. He gestured his gun at her, inviting her in. "Isn't that what you want to do? Haven't you already tried multiple times? And failed on each and every attempt?"

Arthur made a little, clucking sound of disapproval.

"I'd suggest that you try harder, but seeing you stand in front of me right now, I imagine that you haven't many resources left at your disposal. I can't say that I'm sorry about that, because, quite frankly, you're a thorn in my side. More than that, you're a thorn from a decaying plant, your sharp edge is gone, and you're more of an irritation than a real threat."

Morgause didn't answer him. If anything, her glower intensified. Except for the heaving chest, much like a bull about to charge, Arthur was starting to wonder if she really was there.

He fished a coin out of his trouser pocket and threw it at her in challenge. Morgause reacted violently, throwing up her arms and casting a defensive spell that was probably meant to cause collateral damage. Arthur turned his head as a matter of course, closing his eyes against the bright light that sparked when Morgause's magic encountered Merlin's barrier.

Morgause screamed. There was a loud thump.

It took nearly a minute for the light to fade. When Arthur cracked an eye open to see the damage, it was to see that the penny he'd thrown was on the other side of the door, intact and unharmed. Morgause must have reacted prematurely, because not only had she missed, she must have also used up a significant amount of energy in casting a spell. It was a shame that it had all been wasted when it rebounded from Merlin's wards.

The blowback had thrown Morgause nearly thirty metres away from Arthur's office. It had also shoved his PA's desk against the near wall, slightly askew. The computer monitor had fallen off and was in splintered pieces; papers and file folders flittered in the air, falling like leaves.

Morgause didn't move.

Arthur wasn't stupid. He'd fallen for the dead body routine exactly one time, before Excalibur was formed, and had lost his Captain when his Captain went to investigate. He'd sworn that he would never put himself or others in that situation, and that promise was even more important now that he had Merlin and Aithusa.

So, he waited.

His mobile rang, and he answered it without taking his eyes from Morgause's prone body. "I'm fine. Looks like I might be later than I thought. There was a breakthrough on that special project."

Merlin exhaled heavily on the other line. The silence stretched, compounded by an adrenaline-fuelled hitch of breath, and finally, Merlin said, "Well. Good. Okay."

"You're planning on putting these wards on the house, aren't you?" Arthur asked, leaning closer to the doorframe to inspect the damage. The inside of the office was completely intact, but just outside the purview of the wards, nothing was safe. The walls were scorched in several spots where the magic had rebounded, wood paneling was warped, even the metallic highlights were bowed. Arthur wasn't sure he would trust the integrity of the windows, but it wasn't as if he was going to step outside of the office to find out. 

Not until Morgause was secured, anyway. 

"In the house, outside the house, all along the perimeter of the property," Merlin said through clenched teeth. "Every bloody inch."

"As security measures go, I have to approve," Arthur said. He knocked the inside doorframe with the butt of his gun. A piece of wood fell off on the other side.

"So glad it met your satisfaction," Merlin said, saccharine-sweet and clearly coming down from a flare of panic. "Do you have that… _special project_ secured?"

"Not yet, but I plan on shooting it in the leg several times if it thinks about running," Arthur said. Morgause's arm twitched as if she were waking up. He took aim.

"I'm sure a stray shot to the head won't go amiss," Merlin said. "I'll call Cennydd."

"Do," Arthur said. "I'll talk to you in a bit."

Arthur pocketed the phone when the call disconnected. He had to force himself to freeze in position when he heard the _ding_ of the lift arriving. Morgause might have had reinforcements follow her up the building, but Arthur doubted it. Still, at the sound of approaching footsteps, he shifted his position to use the wall as a shield and aimed his gun to the corner.

He lowered his aim when Morgana appeared, skittering to a stop when she saw the damage. Right behind her was Leon, his gun in hand. Arthur slowly emerged into the open door, though he stayed alert.

Morgana's expression twisted in outrage at the chaos, twisted into helpless panic as she searched for Arthur, and when she spotted him standing in the doorway, she nearly collapsed in relief.

Arthur didn't quite lower his weapon all the way until he saw how she reacted. He hadn't been certain that the lingering effects of the control spell were completely gone until now. He raised his hand to warn Leon to keep Morgana away, to move her to safety --

But then she saw Morgause on the ground and world-destroying fury filled her expression. She stalked forward, only to stop, wrench the gun out of Leon's hand, and continue her march toward Morgause, weapon primed and ready.

Arthur was out of his office in an instant, gun trained on Morgause's still-prone body, but he was too late to stop Morgana from kicking Morgause in the side with her pointy-toed and utterly deadly Louboutins.

"Morgana!" Leon exclaimed in dismay, though he didn't make any move to stop her from a second kick. He knew better than to try to disarm her, too, because trying to separate Morgana and a gun was asking to get his balls kicked. All of the team knew that.

"You can't tell me she doesn't deserve this and more," Morgana said. There was a third kick, and this one made Morgause groan and stir, curling into herself.

Arthur gestured roughly behind him. "Restraints in my desk, top left-hand drawer."

"Right," Leon said, a wry smile touching his lips. "Use them when Merlin visits, huh?"

"No, the ones I use are in the bottom right drawer, and they don't fetter magic for _reasons_ you explicitly asked me never to tell you about," Arthur said, revelling in Leon's twitchy expression before turning to Morgana. He stayed clear of her line of fire on Morgause's other side, his gun pointed firmly at Morgause's head. "Olaf wants her for questioning."

"She broke into the building and attacked you," Morgana said. "It would be a justifiable killing."

"She did more than break into the building," Arthur said, keeping his voice low and even. He didn't want to aggravate her more than she already was; clearly, she had been agitated when she'd arrived, and finding Morgause on the floor only added to her stress. "She kidnapped you. She tried to brainwash you. She --"

"She tried to use me to destroy everything I love," Morgana snarled. "She _controlled_ me. How dare she -- who the fuck does she think she is? Who gave her the right?"

Arthur _had_ wondered if Leon had told her. He should have known to expect a violent reaction from Morgana. He was rather glad it wasn't directed toward him.

"Are you going to kill her?" Arthur asked.

"Shouldn't I?"

"I'm just checking." Arthur shrugged. Morgana glanced at him sidelong, an eyebrow rising. "You know I'll erase the surveillance tapes, help you come up with a plausible story for the police, and stage the scene to match."

Tension eased in Morgana's body, but she didn't lower her weapon. "I know."

"Olaf, though," Arthur said, inhaling air through his teeth. "You'll have to deal with his whining for the next month. I can't tell you how much he bitches when he doesn't get his way. He really wants to retire knowing that he wiped out the Daughters from the face of the earth. The only way he'll know that for sure is if he interrogates her and makes damn sure he got every last one of them."

Morgana's shoulders slumped.

"You don't want them to keep getting away with what they've done, do you? Or worse, give them a chance to keep going?" Arthur asked gently. 

Personally, he was perfectly all right with letting Morgana get a few shots in. Maybe a good kick to the teeth. They could call Gwen and give her the opportunity, just in case she still had some residual anger bottled up. She was a quiet woman, _surely_ she had a lot of bottled anger that she needed to get rid of.

Morgana's arm dropped. "You're an arse."

"I know," Arthur said.

"Arthur? Did you say the top left drawer?" Leon asked.

"Yeah," Arthur said, glancing over.

Leon held up plastic handcuffs lined in fuzzy red fake fur. "I don't think these are standard-issue fetters."

"At work, really, Arthur?" Morgana teased. "I hope you plan on giving your PA a raise."

Arthur shot her a dark look. A faint smirk touched her lips, but Arthur killed it with a ruthless, "And that's nothing compared to what you've got stashed in your desk, yeah? Or how often Leon comes to pick you up after work? _Surveillance cameras_ , Morgana. Do you know how often I've had to wipe the hard drives?"

"Oh, no, now I know you're lying," Morgana said.

"Try me," Arthur said gleefully. "I may or may not have made copies before erasing the originals."

"I'll keep looking in the drawer," Leon said, ducking into the office with the same grace of a soldier plunging into a foxhole to save himself from an unavoidable blast.

"I hate you," Morgana said, but the soft tone of her voice didn't match her words.

"The feeling's mutual," Arthur said, raising a meaningful eyebrow. _I love you, too._

Neither one of them spoke. Arthur was tempted to reach for Morgana and to wrap her in a hug, but as long as Morgause was unrestrained, he didn't want to let his guard down. 

Morgause remained curled onto her side, moaning quietly, and Arthur guessed that she was faking being unconscious.

"What brings you two by?" Arthur asked, glancing at Morgana. "It's late, and I know for a fact that you've got better things to do than hanging out at the office."

Leon wore a designer suit and the most expensive tie he owned. Morgana was in a resplendent violet dress with silver-black lace trim and the leather jacket she wore when she was trying for _completely devastating_ while still establishing herself as the Queen of the Ball. In this particular case it was a business dinner with foreign competitors that Morgana had volunteered for if Arthur finished the merger paperwork. Arthur didn't mind; Morgana was better at soothing ruffled feathers than he was.

"I had a vision," Morgana said, raising her chin stubbornly. 

Arthur bit back a smile. Now that Morgause wasn't playing puppeteer and her magic wasn't suppressing Morgana's natural abilities, Morgana's visions had returned, stronger than ever before, and Leon had hinted that he thought Morgana would give in and return to her studies with the Druids fairly soon. 

"Of course, you did," Arthur said. He wanted to ask what she'd seen, but now that she was considering to resume her training, he knew she would tell him if she wanted. If she could.

"I didn't want my brother bleeding out on the carpet in an executive office," Morgana said pointedly. "Do you know how expensive that blend was?"

"Considerate of you," Arthur said sincerely.

"I didn't know about the wards. I wouldn't have rushed over otherwise," Morgana said, glancing over her shoulder with an annoyed frown. 

Arthur wasn't surprised -- since the affair with the bracelet had been uncovered, Morgause-controlling-Morgana had taken great pains to avoid Arthur completely. With the spell removed, Morgana's only excuse for not visiting was a mixture of stubbornness and innate denial.

"The wards are new," Arthur said, offering no explanation. Merlin had insisted, he'd had the time, and Arthur hadn't been about to refuse. He'd been concerned that the enemy would be discouraged by wards, but Merlin promised he'd learned the trick to hiding them properly.

Admittedly, it might have taken Merlin bending Arthur over the desk, face pressed against quarterly reports, wrists handcuffed to the blotter to fully convince him. There wasn't much defence against arguments that were particularly persuasive.

"Did you find them yet?" Morgana asked, impatient. "If we leave soon, we'll be back in time for dessert."

"I found them," Leon announced, emerging from the office slowly, fiddling with the cord holding the restraints. "Also, I thought you didn't want dessert because your dress was --"

"Abort," Arthur said, seeing the train wreck from kilometres away. "Abort, abort."

"-- too tight?" Leon glanced up at Arthur with a frown before realization dawned horror on his face.

"Excuse me?" Morgana asked icily.

"Oh, shite," Leon said. "Arthur --"

"Nope," Arthur said, his attention fixed on Morgause, who was moving a lot more than she had been a minute ago. "Absolutely not. You walked right into that one, and if Morgana says it's grounds for divorce, well, I hope you know she gets the team in the settlement."

"No! Not the team!" Leon said. "Even Gwaine?"

"You can keep Gwaine," Morgana said.

Arthur fell to one knee, pinning Morgause face-down to the ground when it looked as if she were about to scramble away. He made sure she felt the muzzle of his gun against the back of her head. "Going somewhere?"

"I don't want Gwaine," Leon said, hurrying over. He knelt besides Arthur and made quick work of tying Morgause's hands behind her back. 

"Then why did you even bring him up?" Morgana asked.

"Because I thought you'd at least keep him," Leon said. "I'd bargain for Perceval in trade."

"Absolutely not," Morgana said -- nearly knocking Mordred in the face with her gun. He caught her wrist with wide eyes, and Arthur realized he hadn't heard the lift arrive. "Oh! _What's wrong with you?_ Why are you sneaking up on people? Where did you come from?"

"The stairs," Mordred said with a shrug. 

Cennydd moved past Mordred and helped Arthur drag Morgause to her feet with a grin. "Thank you, Arthur. How did you know it was my birthday?"

"I know everything," Arthur said.

"We'll take her out of here," Mordred said, gesturing for Cennydd to hurry. "I know you have a long day tomorrow. Don't forget to email us the location, or the team will have your hide."

"Appreciate it," Arthur said. As they retreated

Arthur sighed, watching them go. It had been an exhausting night so far, and he still had paperwork to finish, but when Morgana kissed his cheek and thumbed away the lipstick left behind, that special project turned out to be well worth all the aggravation.

**ooOOoo**

"Stop that," Will said crossly.

Merlin froze and glanced down at himself. Very slowly, he said, "I'm not doing anything."

"No?" Will shot him a dark look. He took a hand from the steering wheel and gestured rudely in Merlin's direction, encompassing his entire being. "Your leg's been bouncing since we left your flat. You've been biting your nails since four blocks past. And if you change the bloody radio one more time, I'm going to shoot something."

Merlin pointedly stretched his hands over his thighs, subtly wiping the sweat from his palms. "Why did I ask you to be my best mate again?"

"You didn't ask," Will said with a scoff. "I won the coin toss."

"Oh," Merlin said, shaking his head. "That explains a lot. I figured you would've pulled rank."

Will shot him a sidelong look full of betrayal. His mouth clamped shut after a moment and he stared resolutely ahead, releasing the brakes when the lights changed. "I suppose that would've been easier than hunting through London for a trick penny."

"You --" Merlin glanced at Will and shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"What, be happy it came down to that, yeah? Perce wanted to _arm-wrestle_. No one would've had a chance," Will said.

Merlin snorted. "What, no duels at dawn?"

"Eh, Gwaine wasn't interested," Will said, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "All he cared about was running the stag-do and being the MC. We had to lock Lucan in the loo to keep him from challenging Gwaine, though. Fair warning -- Lucan bargained for one speech."

"Probably wise," Merlin said, his tone neutral. A small part of him would have preferred Lucan as the master of ceremonies for the reception, even though, technically, Merlin wasn't supposed to know about any of it. Even now, Merlin was pretending to be oblivious. The official party line was that Will was taking him to some sort of awards presentation. It was the only plausible thing that explained the luxurious tuxedo that he was wearing.

If Arthur hadn't already told him that their wedding date was _today_ , Merlin wouldn't even have guessed that something wasn't quite right about the situation. As it was, Merlin was a bundle of nerves, and the only thing that settled them, even if only a little bit, was that Will didn't bother trying to keep up the charade.

Will slowed down again, the traffic snarl ahead too thick to get through. The light changed from green to yellow to red.

Merlin stared straight ahead, _willing_ the traffic to move. His magic lashed out in an ephemeral thread as if intending on clearing the roads. He scrambled to reel it in. 

"Hey," Will said, his voice gentle. "You all right?"

"My head's done in, what do you think?" Merlin snapped. He took a calming breath. "We're already married. I don't know why I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin."

"First of all," Will said solemnly, his eyes wary as he studied the traffic. "Let's not talk about _crawling out of your skin_. Ever."

Merlin winced, regretting the choice of words. Despite everything that Will had encountered in his years of service, while being with Excalibur and without, he'd always been completely unflappable, with cool calm under fire. But after one harrowing encounter while on assignment to the Philippines, he'd found the one thing that could throw him off his game, and that was watching a woman shed her skin and _slither_ toward him in the shape of a snake.

"Sorry."

"'S all right," Will said, shaking it off with a full-body shudder. The distraction didn't stop him from taking advantage of a slight opening between cars to nudge their way through. "And anyway, your head's not done in any more than usual."

"Grade-A reassurance. Thanks for that," Merlin said.

"You said it yourself," Will said, glancing at him. "You're already married. If Arthur leaves you at the altar, what's that even going to do? Besides the rest of us standing in line behind Hunith to pistol whip him, I mean. _You're already married_ , mate. The only difference is, this time, you're doing it with an audience, and there'll be a nice official piece of paper to make it legal."

Merlin held his breath at the mental image of Arthur seeing him approach down a line of pews, only to turn around and walk away before the minister said word one.

"Bloody Hell, no, that's not what I meant," Will said, grabbing Merlin's shoulder in a tight vice and shaking him violently. "That better not be a panic attack. I've got nowhere to pull over."

"Fuck off," Merlin gasped.

Will gave him a concerned look.

"Just drive," Merlin said. "If I want a pep talk, I'll call Lance. He's much better at it than you are."

Will snorted. "Go right ahead. But I'm telling you now, as your best mate, it's my job to drive as slow as I possibly can in case you change your mind and want to pull a runner."

"I hate you so much," Merlin said.

"Is that a yes? You want me to turn around? I can turn around. It'll take about twenty minutes in this traffic, so you'd best not change your mind," Will said.

"Shut up," Merlin said. "Of course I'm not backing out."

"Neither is Arthur," Will said, his tone stone cold serious. "He and I had a talk. You know, the _talk_ I was supposed to give him before you dumped us all on our arses and eloped like bloody schoolkids."

Merlin hit the headrest and stared up at the roof of the car. He closed his eyes against the flare of pain in his temples. "You didn't."

"I did," Will said. "And the bloody wanker laughed at me, too. But he paid for dinner and bought me a bottle of Glenfiddich to smooth things over, so I think he got the message I was trying to get across."

"Which was?" Merlin asked, almost dreading the answer.

"As long as he spoils the rest of us every now and then, we'll mostly leave the two of you alone," Will said.

Merlin snorted.

They inched past yet another church without stopping. Merlin was starting to wonder if Will was taking him on a tour of London. 

"Where are we going?"

Will shot him an incredulous look. "What? Really? You have to ask that?"

"Will." Merlin struggled for patience. "Where am I getting married?"

Will sighed. He glanced at the dashboard clock before pulling a familiar face -- the one he made whenever he was performing complex mathematics in his head. "You know, I'm supposed to tell you to get the blindfold out of the glove compartment and to put it on."

Merlin opened the glove compartment. There was no blindfold.

"Told your bloke that I don't care what kinky games you two are up to in the bedroom, to keep me out of it, yeah?" Will said, grinning. His tone sobered, and he shook his head. "But I can't do that, mate. The blindfold. Not to you. Been bound up enough, haven't you?"

Merlin felt his jaw clench involuntarily. He could've done without the reminder of being transported, bound and blinded, by Aredian's men. Blindfolds, however, were okay, but _definitely not_ with anyone but Arthur.

"So, just… don't say anything, yeah?"

Merlin met Will's eyes briefly before Will returned his attention to the road, aggressively edging their way through the traffic jam and getting to a side road. "Say anything about what?"

"About where we're going," Will said. "The way Arthur asked, about the blindfold, well. I don't get it myself, but I figure it's someplace important to the two of you."

Merlin frowned, not entirely sure what Will meant. He didn't ask, because it was clear that while Will had told him this much, he wasn't going to reveal anything else. Merlin sat back and waited, tapping his fingers on the side of his leg, waiting for the traffic to clear up. Will pulled a few illegal maneuvers to get them off the gridlock, and within minutes, they were moving -- maybe not quickly, but at least at the posted speed limit -- toward their destination.

Wherever that was.

It wasn't long before landmarks became familiar. A tiny park wedged between buildings with a single, solitary swing. A suite of houses packed together on the block like sardines. Greenery sprouting everywhere there was a patch of ground, branches reaching out with flowering buds, trying to catch the errant springtime sun.

In the distance, just over the rise of buildings, was open sky and clear ground stretching out into open, forested land, with bubbling brook and bridge giving access across an invisible barrier between the gravel parking lot and --

The park.

Merlin's eyes stung.

Beyond the cars filling the lot, there wasn't any other sign that the park was occupied. No one was playing on the flat fields, the trails were empty, and there were none of the expected decorations.

And yet --

Merlin could _feel_ it. 

There was energy unlike anything he'd ever encountered in all his travels across the world. Vibrant with magic, bright with life, resonating with an emotion that transcended human definition.

Will pulled the car in park. He huffed and punched Merlin in the arm, shoving a cloth handkerchief in Merlin's hands. "Don't you start with the weeping. You'll get me going."

Merlin laughed hoarsely, wiping the tears before they could spill. He was glad that Will didn't hurry him along, because it took him a little while to pull himself together.

"I guess it means something to you, then," Will said reluctantly, as if he were unwilling to give Arthur any credit. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Merlin said, blowing his nose noisily. He offered the handkerchief to Will, who made a face and exited the car. Merlin followed a second later.

"He said you'd know the way," Will said, heading for the bridge. 

"I -- yeah, I know the way," Merlin said. They crossed over the brook and followed the trail into the forest until Merlin had a _sense_ of where and wandered into the shrub.

"Oi, these are new shoes --"

Merlin ignored Will and kept going. The forest was thicker than he remembered. There were different species of trees, most of which he only recognized because of his training with Gaius as a child. It was too early in the season for the flowers to bloom, but wildflowers were in full glory, petals bright with colour, hallowed by the sunlight streaming through the branches above. 

There was no trace of human passage, not in these parts. And yet, after walking for nearly ten minutes, they came across a bed of flowers that pointed the way. The flowers lined a path along a deer trail that Merlin could only see now, as if the plants themselves had taken seed months ago only to blossom now, for this express purpose. Merlin knew those flowers, because they were the same flowers in the bouquet he'd chosen when he'd visited the florist. Primrose and snapdragon. Ivy and star of Bethlehem. Amaranth --

Outside of a greenhouse, some of these flowers didn't even grow in England, and he wondered --

He wondered.

There were no visions to give him an answer he wasn't sure he wanted, anyway. He accepted that however the flowers had grown, be it by Arthur's long-term design or happy happenstance, the flowers were there, for him, for Arthur, for them.

They reached the end of the trail where there was a young ash tree and apple tree, clearly grown and cultivated elsewhere and transplanted here. Merlin stopped and stared at them, his heart in his throat, only to be nudged forward to continue.

A wall of willow branches parted easily from a non-existent breeze, and when Merlin and Will passed through --

There was his King, his eyes soft, his smile wry. He stood on the other side of the clearing, the sun shining down upon him and casting him in a halo. There was no suit of armour weighing on his shoulders, no long cloak with arching dragon sigil fluttering in the breeze, but Arthur wore his tuxedo as if it were royal dress, his tie and cummerbund a deep red shade highlighted with gold.

He wasn't alone. Of course, he wasn't. On either side of Arthur were the members of their team, of Excalibur, standing stoutly at guard like knights from times of old. At the front were Merlin's parents, clasping hands, Arthur's father, beaming with pride, Morgana and Gwen, and all of Arthur and Merlin's friends. Merlin couldn't focus on any of them for the blurring tears of joy in his eyes. The only one who was clear was Arthur, who waited for him.

Arthur shifted slightly, a tiny frown pinching on his brow. Merlin saw the question in Arthur's eyes, the, _Come on,_ Mer _lin,_ that remained unspoken, the momentary panic --

A panic that he felt acutely, only to have it fade when he saw the single candle burning on the makeshift stone altar behind Arthur, the pitcher of water, the plate of dirt.

The ribbon.

Merlin wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or to cry. He'd wondered where that ribbon had disappeared to. 

He felt a tug and glanced down. There was Bran, watching him with a big smile. He was holding Aithusa's hand as if he'd led her to him and was just waiting for the right time to let her go.

"Daddy? I'm supposed to bring you to Papa," Aithusa said, holding her hand up impatiently.

Merlin offered her his hand, his throat too tight for words. Bran stepped aside and Aithusa pulled Merlin along at a steady, marching pace until she slowed down abruptly, giving him a sheepish smile and whispering, "I forgot. We're supposed to go slow."

Aithusa's whisper might as well have been an announcement made on a loudspeaker, because everyone laughed gently. The frown disappeared from Arthur's brow and he smiled instead, colour returning to his cheeks as if he'd forgotten to breathe a moment before.

Merlin wasn't quite sure how he'd made it to the other end. He couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. It was as if he were walking on clouds.

Aithusa very firmly put Merlin's hand in Arthur's, tugged them both down, one after the other, for a kiss, and went to take a place next to Bran, who had crept up the pews to stand near Hunith. 

Merlin swallowed hard, feeling as if his face would split under the force of his smile, as if his heart would beat out of his chest. Arthur squeezed his hand, and that was when Merlin realized that he wasn't the only one, because he could feel an echo of another heart beating in rhythm with his own through their bond.

The air was full of magic. Of sparkles visible and invisible. A gentle presence was among them, thriving and alive, pulsating with peace and love. Whatever rite had been done to stir the great Mother along with the other natural elements in the grove, it had taken all of the team, regardless of whether they had magic or not. Merlin could feel them, too.

A hush fell over the small group as Gaius, in ceremonial robes, approached the narrow altar. Mordred and Kathy moved to stand behind him, shrouded in the darker robes of attendants. Kathy's smile was brilliant. Mordred winked.

"Dearly beloved --" 

The sound of someone blowing their nose noisily made Gaius raise an eyebrow nearly to his hairline and to look past Merlin. Merlin glanced to his side to see Will wiping his nose. He raised a hand as if to say, _I'm okay_. 

Arthur sighed softly, as if he'd expected _something_. Merlin shook his head at Will and turned to Arthur again. Gaius rolled his eyes with the resignation of someone too familiar with Will's antics and cleared his throat to begin again.

An air sprite beat him to it, picking up the ribbon. The ribbon danced in the air, serpentine and sinuous. It positioned itself over Merlin and Arthur's clasped hands, where it twisted and twined in complicated knotwork patterns. The movement was mesmerizing, and Merlin knew he wasn't the only one to recognize the blessings being writ in the air.

Gaius smiled and made no attempt to stop it. Merlin met Arthur's eyes and curled his fingers tightly around Arthur's hand.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the renewal of the handfasting of Merlin Emrys and Arthur Pendragon…"


End file.
